Scotch & Torture
by peanutofthenight
Summary: Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, and all the king's horses and the king's men, couldn't put Blair back together again. Maybe a king – or a prince – couldn't put her broken self back together again – But maybe a Chuck Bass could. He couldn't let Louis break the love of his life, after all. A story of building love after trauma. Blair/Chuck.
1. Signs

**A/N **I don't know if anyone but me still reads GG fanfic, but I was inspired. So I decided to write something up. This is the prologue and chapter 1. I already have chapter 2 in the works if anyone is interested after reading this.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Prologue

The bathroom was dark, quiet, empty. The tile was cold and hard against her bare legs. She leaned against the hard wall of the bathtub, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing, thinking nothing, not in particular. It had been a long night - most nights were long these days. _Not long, _she thought. _Never ending._

This wasn't the first time, and as many times as he said that it would never happen again, she knew it wouldn't be the last. He had proclaimed tonight would be the last time, as he had a hundred times over. At first, she had believed him. He was angry, he had lost his temper, he was sorry, he would make it up. She didn't believe him anymore. Not anymore. He was a monster, plain and simple. He hurt her because he could, because he wanted to. She let him. Because he loved her.

_Because he loved her._

For the first time in a long time, she felt the urge to make herself sick. It had been a long time since she had purged – a long time ago, someone had made her feel beautiful, and she had stopped. She didn't feel beautiful, she didn't feel in control. _Because you aren't, bitch,_ she thought. She winced at her own thoughts, or maybe from the bruise blooming on her left hip, where he had pushed her up against the dresser so hard her vision went black. Black and blissful, there was no feeling when the stars burst in her eyes. She was thankful when the stars came because she didn't have to think, didn't have to feel.

_Blair Waldorf is weak - Gossip Girl is still right,_ she thought bitterly. In spite of herself she chuckled softly thinking of the memory – the night she decided to stop being weak. _How the hell did I end up here?_

Her own soft laughter brought her out of her own thoughts, and she looked at her phone, which had been discarded on the floor. It was almost 3am. She realized she needed to go to sleep. There was another pointless gala tomorrow, a pointless gala where she was expected to show her face, be perfect, be ladylike, be charming - be Blair Waldorf. She dragged herself in a standing position and stared at herself in the mirror. Who she saw was not Blair Waldorf. Not anymore. Being in love had drained her of her life force completely, and all that looked back at her from mirror was an empty shell of who she used to be. She stared into her own lifeless brown eyes, saw how limp and lustless her hair seemed now, and she wanted to cry. But she couldn't, and she hadn't in a while. Instead, she started building her mask. It was harder these days, when she had so much more to hide.

A soft knock came at her bathroom door and she jumped. She had thought she was alone.

"Blair?" came a soft, sorrowful voice. "Are you in there? I'm sorry."

"I know," she replied quickly. "I'll be out in a moment, I'm just finishing up getting ready for bed."

"I love you, Blair," he said softly through the door.

She flinched at the words, and stared at herself harder in her mirror. _Push it down. Barricade. Smile, darling. _And she smiled into the mirror. She thought it was convincing enough. "I'm coming, Louis. Just give me a few more minutes, ok?"

"Hurry up, please. I miss you, Blair."

An unsteady breath left her body. _Miss me? MISS ME? You HIT me. Again. _"I'm coming, my love."

One more look into the mirror to check that her mask was still in place, and she opened the door to meet Louis, smile intact.

Xoxo.

**Chapter 1**

She awoke early, as she usually did, just as the first rays of sunlight were beginning to brim over New York. Her head and body ached, and her mouth felt dry. She looked to the body next to her in bed and sighed. Every day she woke up, and hoped the form would change, would be someone different. It never changed. It was never anyone different than Louis. Her Prince.

As he slept soundly, she quietly got out of bed and tip-toed to the bathroom - her private sanctuary - silently closing and locking the door. In her sanctuary, she took off the slip she was wearing and studied herself in the mirror, looking for new bruises she would have to cover for tonight. As far as she was aware, Princesses did not bruise. Or at least, they covered them with makeup. _Right?_

It was better than she could have hoped for. She had many bruises, but all were clustered around her ribcage, abdomen, and thighs. There were none on her face or on her upper body. He had been kind this time.

She turned on the shower and let it run until it fogged up her mirror - until she could no longer see herself. She stepped inside and let the scorching water rain down on her body, burning her, cleansing her of the horrible piece of her that made Louis hate her so much. Cleansing her of the pain. She turned her face up into the shower, and the scorching water ran over her face, like the burning tears that couldn't come from her own eyes.

Xoxo.

"Hey, S!" Blair said into her phone as she applied last minute touches to her makeup.

"Hey, B!" Serena practically screamed into the phone. "Are you almost here!? The party is so much fun!"

"Sounds like, S. Open bar?" Blair asked, bemused.

"Chuck Bass is here, so obviously it's an open bar!" Serena giggled into the phone. "You know _he _wouldn't come unless there was a promise of scotch!"

Blair's stomach dropped. She felt sick. Nervous. Nauseous. Scared. "Oh, Chuck's there?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Of course, silly. Maybe he and Louis can bond tonight and you and I can let loose, have some fun? We never have fun anymore, B. We barely see each other anymore!" Serena whined.

"Perhaps," Blair said distractedly. This was bad. Very bad. The first time Louis had hurt her it had been because of Chuck. He didn't like the way she talked to him, her friendship with him, their connection. It was because of Chuck she had been punished for the first time. _Every time. _ Louis hated Chuck, therefore he hated her. She glanced around the room, and realized that Louis was in the bathroom, still in the shower. _If I made you late you would beat me up, but it's alright when you do it, right? _ Of course.

Grabbing her phone, she left the room and went out into the hallway, pressing the number 1 on her speed dial, barely thinking. He picked up after 2 rings.

"Waldorf, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he drawled.

"Chuck, where are you right now?" she whispered.

"I'm at the gala…I thought you knew? Serena said you were coming…" he trailed off, obviously confused.

"Chuck. Please listen to me. I need you to leave. Please," Blair heard nothing but silence, and she wondered if the call had dropped. "Chuck?" she whispered again. Finally, she heard a deep sigh, she knew he was still there, struggling with what to say.

"Blair," he said softly. "Are you ok? You sound…You don't sound like you," he finally said.

"Oh? And what do I normally sound like?" She asked, growing irritated.

"Not like this," he said softly. "You sound scared. Blair…."

She cut him off. "I'm Blair Waldorf. I'm not scared, of anything or anyone. Just leave, Bass. Just leave."

"No," he said in the same soft tone he had used throughout their whole conversation. "I'm not leaving, Blair, until you tell me why I need to."

She flinched at his words, realizing she had used the word "need." _Goddammit. _"Please," she whispered once more, realizing she was begging. "Please."

"No."

"Chuck, I'm asking you for one thing," her voiced trembled as she spoke, "Please leave. Please." As she was speaking, she heard Louis call for from inside their room. "Chuck," she whispered, "I have to go. Please listen to me. Goodbye." She hurriedly closed her phone and went back to Louis, mask intact.

Xoxo.

"Blair? Blair?!" It was no use. She had hung up on him. Something in his gut was screaming that something wasn't right. This wasn't the Blair he knew. She was begging him to leave a society gala without reason. Something was incredibly wrong. And like hell if he was going to leave without finding out what. Taking a deep breath and gulp of scotch he opened his phone again and texted the only other person who really knew Blair. _S. Something up with B? I'm at the bar. _He hit send and took another gulp of scotch. It burned all the way down but he barely noticed.

Xoxo.

Serena was obviously heavily intoxicated when she sat down next to Chuck at the bar. "What's up with B?" She almost yelled.

"Quiet down, Serena. Jesus. Drink some water. Yes, B," Chuck softened. "What's going on with her? She called me earlier tonight, begging me to leave. Something's not right with her, Serena." He looked into Serena's eyes, even though they were glazed over. She sobered slightly, considering his words.

"I know," she said softly. "I just don't know what, Chuck. She's shutting me out," she slurred. "Have you seen her tonight? She's supposed to be here?"

"No, I haven't. But she begged me to leave and I told her I wouldn't. So maybe she's not coming." He would never admit it, but the thought of seeing her again excited him so much. But she wasn't coming. In his disappointment, he finished off his scotch in one gulp and ordered another. It was time to get drunk. Time to get obliterated – the way he felt every time he remembered Blair was engaged to someone else. _Fucking obliterated. _

"There's my girl now!" Serena shouted, just as Chuck was planning on getting as drunk as humanly possible. "B!" Serena shrieked, "Blair!"

Blair turned her head at hearing her name being screamed. And Chuck saw it. It was quick, imperceptible to most human eyes, but he saw it. Pure, absolute misery right before it turned it a fake smile for Serena. His heart plummeted. Something was horribly wrong, he just didn't know what.

She ignored him, which didn't surprise him. She had begged him to leave. But he couldn't. Chuck pulled out his phone and sent her a text.

_B, what's wrong? Talk to me. _

Send.

_Nothing. Why would you think anything was wrong?_

Chuck sighed.

_You begged me to leave. Why? You don't seem like you, B. I'm worried._

_I'm fine, Bass. Leave me alone_

_Hey, B. Still not leaving. I'll always be here._

Chuck smirked as he hit send on the last text. He felt his stomach and heart clench at the same time. He knew Blair better than he knew himself. But right now, she wasn't his Blair. He didn't know what she was thinking or feeling, just based on the look in her eyes. He looked at her from across the room. He studied her. She was stunning in a form-fitted black dress, her brown curls cascading down her back – she was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. But something was different. She looked sad. Miserable, actually. He noticed the slight hunch in her shoulders, the way she didn't hold her head quite as high as she used to.

Chuck frowned. He had seen her break apart, and she'd seen him do the same. This seemed different. She was trying to hide that she was falling apart, and he could see right through it. On her side was Louis, smiling brightly. He knew she saw him, but she completely ignored his gaze.

So he texted her again. _B, what's going on? You look miserable. Tell me you're ok._

In under a minute he received a response: _She's fine. Don't contact my fiancée anymore. She wants nothing more to do with you._

Chuck looked up from his phone, searching for her eyes frantically. But the only eyes he met with were Louis'. Cold, hard, murderous. The bad feeling was Louis. He was going to hurt Blair. Chuck returned Louis' glare before looking for Blair, who was nowhere in sight. "Where are you, Waldorf?" He murmured to himself.

The evening dragged on as his desperate search for Blair continued. She was nowhere to be found, and Chuck could steadily feel his panic building. He felt his heart begin to race, the vein in his temple was starting to throb, hard enough for him to feel a headache building in his brain. He felt the cold, nervous sweat begin to bead on his neck. The kind of sweat that only came with fear. He could still see Louis, happily chatting with other partygoers, and he reasoned Louis' continued presence was the only reason he wasn't having a full-on panic attack. He felt his breaths start to become shorter, and he knew he was on the verge of actually having a panic attack. Just as he was resigning himself to take a step outside just so he could try to just _breathe_, he felt the vibration in the pocket of his tuxedo. _Blair._

_I'm still here. But I don't know for how much longer. You know where I am._

Chuck panicked at the text. There was subtext there, and he knew it. _Not for how much longer, B?_

_He'll come for me, _she replied.

_Blair…Call me. Please. Or come to the Empire. I'll leave right now and I'll meet you there. Please. _

_Its's late, Chuck._

_Baby, please._

_Come soon. Please._

_Baby, you're scaring me._

_I'm afraid he's going to kill me, Chuck._

He stared at the phone in his hand, the text on the screen. _I'm afraid he's going to kill me, Chuck. _He felt sick to his stomach and he wanted to smash his fist into the wall at the same time. He couldn't see straight, he couldn't breathe. All the air had just been knocked out his lungs, his heart had been kicked into his throat.

Still staring at his phone, Chuck took a seat at the bar and gruffly ordered a scotch, in a vain attempt at getting a handle on his nerves. He drained his glass in one gulp, trying to regain control of his senses. After another scotch and several forced deep breaths, Chuck realized that Blair was asking him to do _something_. Not just punch someone at a gala. _Actually_ do something. His hands shook as he typed out a reply to her. _I love you, Blair. I'll do anything. And you know I mean anything. _He hits send and hopes she understands _his_ subtext. _Rooftop, 30 minutes._

No Blair.

Chuck began to panic, Blair is never late. Blair is annoyingly on time. _I'm afraid he's going to kill me. _The words were seared into his brain now. The played like a cruel mantra in his head.

_Where are you, B? _He sent the text after she didn't show up to meet him after 10 more minutes.

No response. His heart was beating in his chest so hard he could feel it in his skull. 20 more minutes.

_Waldorf? _He sent her another text, praying, hoping, for a response.

_Not coming. Stop texting me. Please. –B_

He needed scotch. Now. Desperately. He needed to drown the panic, the fear, and absolute dread he felt. _I'm afraid he's going to kill me, Chuck_, the mantra repeated again. He had to drown those words the only way he knew, and then he needed to make a plan.


	2. Shout

Disclaimer: Don't own.

**Chapter 2**

As soon as she had locked eyes with him, she knew she was in trouble. She had heard Serena screaming her name, clearly intoxicated, and as Blair turned her head to great her drunk best friend, her mask settling into place, she instead locked eyes with _him._ Immediately, she could see in his eyes that he had seen her. Not the face she put on for everyone, no. He had seen _her. _Her misery. His eyes, warm and brown, clearly studying her. Warm brown eyes full of worry.

She did her best to ignore him, hoping that maybe he hadn't seen her face before the mask was all the way intact. She was fooling herself, though, she knew. He knew her better than she knew herself. She wasn't even surprised when she felt her phone vibrate. _B, what's wrong?_ _Talk to me. _Louis was busy greeting some of the other guests so she quickly sent a reply, barely looking at the keys on her phone. This was dangerous and she knew it, Louis was standing right next to her, his arm looped through hers'. _Please stop texting me, Chuck. Please, _she screamed in her head, willing him to hear her.

He didn't. The texts kept coming, and she kept responding. Why couldn't she just ignore him? She didn't know, but she did know she was playing with fire. Louis led her away from the groups of people, and she realized just how tightly he was gripping her arm. She felt the color drain from her face.

Louis bent forward, and his mouth lingered near her ear. To anyone else, they looked like a happily engaged couple. Blair knew better. "Who is texting you so much, darling?" He whispered into her ear. The ice in his question sent shivers down her back, as if her spine was suddenly made of icicles.

"Just Serena," she whispered. She knew it was a bad lie.

Louis reached for her purse. "Let me carry this for you, darling," he said as he forced it from her hands, and opening the clasp of her bag he pulled out her phone. "What did Serena have to say, my love?" He questioned.

_No no no no no. _Blair closed her eyes and prayed that she would wake up from this nightmare_. _

Louis looked at the latest text she had received from Chuck, she saw his nostrils flare, his pupils dilate. His eyes slowly rose to look at her, and what she saw in them was scarier than anything she had ever seen from him before. Pure, unadulterated, hatred. Tonight was going to be worse than the rest, she knew it.

"Serena, huh, Blair?" He scoffed. She saw him type a short text on her phone, no doubt to Chuck. He hit send and threw the phone in her bag before he grabbed her hand so hard she swore he was trying to break her fingers. _He probably is_, she thought bitterly.

She had to get away. She had to run. "Louis, darling, I have to use the restroom," she said as calmly as possible."

"Fucking hold it," he said quietly. "You've been rude and disrespectful the entire time we've been here. Aren't these _your_ friends?" He asked with utter disgust.

"Darling, please…It's… it's that time of the month," she answered quickly. "Please, I need to use the restroom."

Louis' lips curled in disgust and he shoved her bag into her hands, "You're disgusting. Go, take care of it. Quickly," he added.

Blair nodded, and walked away quickly, hoping she could find the nearest bathroom before Louis could realize what she had just pulled. She found one quickly, and upon the realization that it was empty, she locked herself inside before slumping against the door and down to the floor. She quickly pulled out her phone and texted Chuck back._ I'm still here. But I don't know for how much longer. You know where I am. _Blair hoped he understood what she said. She was really, truly scared. Tonight was different. She had taken the brunt of many of Louis' rages before, but she had never seen that cold, calculated look in his eyes before. The look that made her afraid that he might actually kill her.

_I can't do this,_ Blair screamed at him in her head.

Her phone vibrated again. _Baby, you're scaring me. _It was the second time he had called her "baby" tonight. She had never been one for pet names, and neither was Chuck, but she loved the rare occasions when he called her that. It had always been reserved for when they were alone, during or after they had made love, or after they had had an argument. Chuck always knew when to employ "baby" to his advantage, he knew it make her let him in.

_I'm scared he's going to kill me, Chuck._ She finally realized the words for what they were, concrete, and a total possibility. She hit send and immediately fled to a stall where she locked the door and proceeded to purge herself of all the food she had eaten today.

Xoxo.

She leaned against the wall of the stall, trying to compose herself. She had been gone too long, she knew. Louis would be suspicious, if he wasn't already. She had thrown up everything she had eaten today, but she still felt nauseous. From where she sat on the floor in the stall, she saw her phone abandoned on the floor. She slowly gathered herself up, unlocking the stall door to retrieve her phone.

Four texts from Chuck.

_I love you, Blair. I'll do anything. And you know I mean anything._

_Rooftop. 30 minutes. _

_Where are you, B?_

_Waldorf?_

And one from Louis.

_Where the hell are you? Get back here this instant._

Her blood ran cold at Louis' text. She had to go back now. She glanced at the mirror, and realized that her makeup was still intact, but there was nothing she could do about her bloodshot eyes. She took a few deep breaths and forced a smile onto her face. _Chuck would see right through that bullshit,_ she thought. She sent one more text Chuck, _Not coming. Stop texting me. Please. –B _And promptly deleted all of his messages from her phone.

Smile intact, she unlocked the bathroom door and went to meet her fiancée. _Her prince. _

Xoxo.

She found Louis entertaining a group of men she recognized from many other society galas she had attended in the past. His smile was radiant, and the group was enchanted with him. They laughed wholeheartedly while he was telling them whatever story he was telling them – Blair understood that his words were English, but they didn't make sense to her ears at all. The smile, his charm, they made her remember why she fell in love with him in the first place.

Part of her did still love him, albeit it was small piece. She wasn't with him for love though, not anymore. She was with him out of pure necessity, for survival. _That isn't love!_ the thought came to her, shouting. _He doesn't love you, you idiot. He HURTS you. _

_But you're going to be a Princess_, a softer, smaller voice inside her head said.

Blair shook her head, needing to be free from her thoughts. She looped her arm through Louis' who looked at her, dazzling smile still on his face, but she still saw the anger in his eyes. She smiled up at him, hoping he wouldn't see her fear.

"Ah, gentlemen. My beautiful fiancée has returned, and I must bid you all adieu. It is growing late and it is time for us to return home," he said, looking pointedly at Blair as he said the word "home."

Blair gulped, but politely smiled at the men, "I'm sorry to be stealing my fiancée away, but he is right, it is growing late." She wondered what she was in for tonight. _It's ok it's ok it's ok,_ she told herself. As she left with Louis' arm tight and rigid against her own, her own mantra repeating in her head, she didn't feel Chuck's gaze on her and Louis.

Xoxo.

Blair awoke the next morning to the feeling of cold tile against her face. _Why the hell do you spend so much time in the bathroom?_ She asked herself. She pulled herself into a sitting position. Her head hurt. Her jaw hurt. Her neck hurt. Everything hurt. She briefly remembered last night – Louis had been so angry, his fists coming at her from every angle, so punches landing, others falling short – before she finally ran from him and locked herself in the bathroom. _Great idea, _she said to herself.

The night was over, though. He was usually much calmer in the morning. She braced herself and quietly unlocked the bathroom door, and walked out into their room, expecting to find him still sleeping. Instead she was greeted by several suitcases, their room in disarray. Louis didn't even notice her as he emptied a drawer into a suitcase, not even bothering to fold the clothes. Instead he just shoved them in before slamming the lid down on the full case and tugging the zipper to close it before throwing it unceremoniously onto the floor. "Louis.." she said softly, "what are you doing?"

"Packing," he said shortly, coldly.

Blair gulped. "For what?" She asked softly.

"We're leaving today. Tonight. I'm taking you to Monaco. I'm tired of New York. It's not good for you. It's not good for us. This world is toxic, Blair. Don't you realize?" He asked

"Monaco?" _Monaco._ _Far away from New York. Far away._

"Yes, Monaco, Blair," he sneered. "Don't act stupid. We're leaving this place at once."

_Far away. Where no one could help. _"No," she said softly, so softly she wasn't even sure the word even slipped out of her mouth.

But Louis heard her. "No?" He challenged.

Louder this time, Blair returned, "No."

Louis grabbed her wrists, crushing them, hurting her. "How dare you challenge me. We are going to Monaco. Tonight. The end."

Blair yanked her wrists from his grasp, not even noticing the pain. "NO, Louis. I am not going to Monaco. The END!" She yelled.

Louis paused, and turned to face her, slowly. "What did you just say to me?" he asked softly.

"I said no, Louis," she responded. "I am not going to Monaco."

Before she even realized what was happening, he slapped her across the face, hard. She felt tears well in her eyes, but they didn't fall. Louis turned from her slowly, "I don't know why you make me do this, Blair."

With him turned away from her, Blair saw her bag from last night a few feet away from her, having been thrown onto the floor. Without a second thought, she grabbed it and ran from the room. She ran, in pajamas and with no shoes, into the lobby of the building, onto the street, and into a cab she stole from someone else. She looked insane, and she didn't care. She had to get away. Now. She let out a shaky breath as the cab drove further away from the building, from the apartment she shared with Louis, and she pulled out her phone.

_Where are you?_

Xoxo.

He stood in front of one of the windows of his penthouse, staring down at the city below, a glass of scotch in hand. It was early - _too early_ \- for scotch, but he didn't care. The thoughts inside his head were too much, he had to numb them, drown them, make them be quiet – just for a little while. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. _I just need to be numb for a little bit longer._ He took another sip of his scotch and heard his phone ping from across the room. He assumed it was from Serena or Nathaniel, checking up on him. But he only wanted to hear from one person, everyone else be damned. _What if it is her? _He asked himself. _Fuck, it could be her._ He turned around quickly, almost losing his balance. _It's 9am and you're hammered. What would Bart think? _He thought bitterly. _Fuck. No. Blair. Think about Blair._

He stumbled to his phone, and saw her text. _Where are you?_

He typed back as fast as his drunken fingers could move,_ Empire. Where are you?_

She texted back almost immediately, _I'll be there in 15. _

Suddenly he was sober. His heart drummed in his chest, his body felt warm. She was coming to see him. He was still in his pajamas, so he decided he needed to at least wash his face and get dressed, at least be _somewhat_ presentable. He dressed quickly, and just as he was finishing he heard the knock at the door. He had to stop himself from running to open it, to see her.

Opening the door, he was shocked at what he saw. She was in a negligee and a robe. She had no shoes, her hair was in disarray and her eyes were bloodshot. "Blair…"

"Can I come in?" Her voice broke as she asked.

"Yes, come in. What's…"

She cut him off. "Lock the door," she demanded.

He moved past her and locked the door, and dead-bolted it for good measure. "Do you want me to call security, too?" He saw her wince. "I'm not teasing, Blair. Should I call security, too? You know I will," he said honestly.

She looked up at him and her eyes broke his heart. "Please," she pleaded.

His eyes never left her face as he picked up the phone. "Chuck Bass," he said into the phone coolly, "Louis Grimaldi is not allowed into the Empire under any circumstances, understood? If he enters this building there will be consequences - you will _all _lose your jobs, Clear? Ok, Good." He said before hanging up the phone.

Placing the phone back on its receiver, he moved closer towards her, "Blair," he murmured, "Why are you here? Talk to me. Please," he begged.

Her eyes met his, looking deep into his deep brown orbs. "Chuck….?"

"Yes?" he asked, moving even closer to her. He wanted to hold her. To kiss her. Hold her hand. Just feel her skin under his. But something told him touching her right now was a bad idea, so he just waited for her to speak.

"Am I unlovable?" She asked, without meeting his eyes. It was the question that had been running through her head for days, weeks even. Was she unlovable? Was she horrible? _Do I deserve this?_ Is what she really wanted to ask. But she couldn't ask.

Against his better judgement, he had to touch her after she asked him if she was unlovable. _He _loved her. He needed her to feel that he loved her. He gently grabbed her wrists to in his hands, "Blair," he said softly.

She flinched at his hands on her wrists and pulled them away, wrapping her arms around her body. His eyes went to her face, and he noticed that her cheek was slightly purple and swollen. He stomach dropped. Finally, it all clicked in his mind. Louis hurt her. Louis hit her. Regularly. Daily, maybe. He felt sick. "How long has this been going on, Blair?" he asked quietly.

"You didn't answer _my_ question, Bass," she replied.

He looked into her eyes. "Blair Waldorf, you are not unlovable. _I _love you. I always have and I always will. Now answer my question. How long has this been going on?"

"How long has what been going on?" she asked him, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"How long has Louis been hurting you?" he replied.

She clenched her eyes shut, again wishing she would wake up. "Since the night of the bar mitzvah," she finally replied.

His heart clenched. Louis knew. He knew they had slept together. This was his fault. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "If it hadn't been for Russell, and…"

She took a step closer to him. "No. It's not your fault. He could've left me. He didn't. Instead he hits me. That isn't your fault, Chuck. It's his. It's mine."

"How is it your fault?" he asked.

"I make him angry."

Chuck couldn't help but chuckle at that. He saw her flinch and explained, "Blair, you have made me angry every single day I've known you…I would never…I could never…" He trailed off.

"I know," she said softly.

"Can I hold you? You had me so scared last night. I just...I need to feel you in my arms, baby. Can I?" he asked.

_Baby._ There it was again. She nodded at him and immediately she felt his strong arms around her body. He wasn't pawing at her, trying to strip her, and he certainly wasn't trying to hurt her. She felt safe. At peace. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him closer to her. "Chuck, I messed up," she said softly.

"How did you mess, up, baby?" He asked, gently kissing her forehead.

"It's the same thing as me and Nate. I wanted the fairy tale. I wanted to be a princess. Serena was right…the only one watching the movie of my perfect life is me….and I don't even see that movie anymore. It's more like a horror movie. You don't even know the half of it, Chuck. Every part of my body hurts and I want to die." The words were spilling freely now, everything she had been thinking to herself for months.

"Don't say that, Blair," he said softly, kissing the top of her head.

"Say what?" she replied.

"That you want to die. Don't ever say that to me."

"Chuck…."

"No. don't you ever say that to me. Remember what you said to me on the roof of Victrola? Same goes for me. I couldn't bear it."

She nodded. "I don't want to die, Chuck…I'm just so unhappy. I'm afraid always. And last night after he found out I was texting you...I honestly thought he'd kill me. I've never seen that look in his eyes before…Last night was worse than most. And then he told me we were going Monaco."

"Monaco?"

"That's exactly what I said. So here I am. I can't go, Chuck. He's trying to get me away from my friends, my family, my home…But mostly, you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, Chuck."

Suddenly she felt all the tears that had refused to fall brimming in her eyes, threatening to fall. It had been months since she had cried.

"Why me?" he asked.

"You're a threat…Honestly any man who lays eyes on me is a threat. They all want me. And I've fucked them all, according to him. If I make eye contact with another man, it basically confirms I've cheated on him…I feel dirty, Chuck. And I don't know why," she whispered.

"Why are you even with him, Blair?" he asked. "When he hurts you?"

Tears welled in her eyes and her stomach clenched. "I was going to leave him the night it started – for you! I wanted to be with you. You let me go, remember? I settled. And it was a mistake. A mistake I couldn't run away from."

"I didn't know…"

"That he was like this? Yeah, me neither. I wish you would have let me tell him it was over that night."

"I did what I thought was best for you, Blair...I'm sorry."

She suddenly realized that Louis probably knew exactly where she had gone. There wasn't much time left. "Chuck, shut up," she said softly. "You called security, right?"

"You asked me to, so of course."

"I don't think I'm safe, Chuck," she whispered.

"He's not allowed in no matter what, Blair, you are safe here," he answered softly, his eyes looking to hers, but she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"I don't think I'll ever be safe again, Chuck. He's a prince. I'm…"

"You're Blair Waldorf," he interrupted, intertwining his fingers with hers. Their eyes locked, and he moved his face closer to hers. Her scent of her skin, her hair intoxicated him. He could feel her breath on his lips, and he leaned in, capturing her lips softly. He felt the fire that had laid dormant inside of him for so long ignite again. "Kiss me, Blair," he whispered.

"I can't," she whispered. "I have to go home."

"To him? Blair, really?"

"I've been gone too long..."

"So don't go back. Stay here, with me. Forever. Forget about him," he pleaded.

"I've been gone too long. I have to go back soon. Hopefully he's calm now," she smiled halfheartedly at him.

"Why, Blair? Why are you with him?" he asked softly. _Why aren't you with me?_

"I loved him once…Sometimes I think I still love him, maybe. But he scares me."

"He hurts you, Blair," he said quietly.

"I'm aware, thank you," she seethed.

"Blair.."

Her eyes met his, and she couldn't quite read his expression.

"Please don't go back to him. Stay with me," Chuck whispered.

"I want to. But I can't. I –I shouldn't have even come here tonight, Chuck. He's going to be furious. I ran away from him in my pajamas and with no shoes. He's going to be so angry." Thinking about what she had done impulsively, she felt the panic rise inside of her. If she thought Louis was angry before, he was certainly angry now.

"You're shaking," Chuck whispered, his hand clenching down on their intertwined fingers.

"I'm fine."

"But you're not, Blair."

The shift in her mood happened so quickly he was in awe, even though he knew better than anyone how fake it was. "I'm fine, Chuck, really," she smiled brightly. "I just overreacted a bit and now I have to go home to my fiancée. He'll be worried."

Her smile was so wide Chuck's face physically hurt looking at wide it was. _Are you lying to me or yourself?_ He didn't dare ask. "Blair, don't…"

"I have to go, Chuck, I'm really sorry for disturbing you," she interrupted, smile still plastered to her face. Her eyes were empty. Her hand quickly disentangled from his own and she moved away from him so quickly that he could only sit their dumbly. "Goodbye, Chuck."

Before he could comprehend what had just happened, she was gone, the door softly closing behind her. Blair was afraid Louis would kill her, she had run to him in terror, and now she was acting as if everything was fine. Chuck was baffled. _What the actual fuck?_

"At least borrow a pair of shoes…." He said lamely, he said to no one. It was already too late.

She was gone.

Reviews are appreciated - I know it's not everyone's cup of tea. I'm a little dark and twisted. *shrugs*


	3. Okay

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, they are appreciated. I know this story is a lil dark and twisted but I'm having fun writing it. Promise it won't ALL be dark and twisted, though. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Reviews are appreciated (:**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. **

**Chapter 3**

She had run to Chuck. She had abandoned Louis. This was bad, bad, bad. She had most definitely messed up. Earlier today, as Louis was packing and ordering her that she come with him to Monaco, she had panicked. She had thought irrationally. Louis was her fiancée and she loved him. _Right? Yes. Of course. _Blair was currently arguing with herself outside the door of the apartment. _Go inside? Run away? No, go inside! He loves you! Right? Yes. Of course. _Exhaling deeply, she slid her key card into the elevator door and let herself inside. All of the lights were on inside the apartment, and Louis sat waiting directly in front of the door, glass of wine in hand. By the hazy look in his eyes, she could tell it wasn't his first. Probably not even his second.

"Where have you been?" He seethed.

"Out," she stated. _Too bold, Blair, too bold. _

"Out where?" He asked, his voice threatening.

"Just out," she responded, backing away. "I needed air." She felt so small, and so weak. "Louis…"

"Don't. Just pack, whore," he spat.

"Louis, please. I'm sorry. I messed up. Please. I don_'_t want to go to Monaco. Not like this," she pleaded. "I love you."

His face softened at her words. He stepped closer to her, and for once Blair didn't feel afraid of him. "Darling, you know I love you. That's why I do this. I love you so much, and you make me so angry. I can't stand the thought of you with someone else. I can't stand the eyes of another man on you, stripping you of your clothes and making love to you with his eyes." He pulled her close, pressing his lips against her cheek as he continued to speak, "Seeing another man look at you like that makes me insane. You are my fiancée. _Mine_," he whispered. "I can't stand it. I'm so sorry. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I get so jealous when I see other men look at you."

Her stomach turned. _So men look at me and that's MY fault? You fucking— _"It's fine, Louis," she whispered. "Everything is fine." His hard edge had softened unexpectedly, _Probably has to do with how much wine he's had, _and Blair was not going to take his sudden mood shift for granted.

"Are we alright?" He asked. His question seemed innocent enough, but Blair detected a slight threat beneath his words.

"Absolutely, Louis," she smiled so brightly her face hurt.

"Do you still love me, Blair?" he asked.

She hated the way her name sounded on his tongue. "Bleh" was always what she heard. She knew it was his accent, but her name was Blair, not Bleh. It drove her insane every time she heard it. _How did I get engaged to you? You can't even say my name properly!_ _I'm Blair Waldorf, dammit!_ "Of course, Louis," she replied smoothly. "You're my fiancé."

"Show me," he said softly, threateningly.

"I'm tired tonight, darling. And as I said last night, it's that time of the month, I know how much that disgusts you."_ Find an excuse, any excuse._

"You're lying. I know you're not on your period, Blair." _Bleh. _"Show me you love me?" He was asking, but deep down she knew it was a demand.

Of course she was lying. Of course he had figured it out. Louis was a lot of things, but an idiot was not among them. It was a bad lie anyways, she realized. "Alright, Louis, let's go to bed," she said, forcing a smile to her face. Her brain, however, was screaming to not let him touch her. In an instant, his lips were on hers, they were dry and rough, forceful. Her mouth opened to let in his tongue and she recoiled at the taste of his breath mixed with wine inside her mouth. She didn't want him kissing her, but she knew she had no choice. So she did the only thing should could do: She shut her mind off and let him do what he wanted.

It was over and they were lying together on the bed, naked. Louis was trying to catch his breath and Blair was willing herself not to cry. She hadn't wanted to have sex with him, but he was calm, for the moment, and she knew it was all she could do to keep him this level of calm. If she had refused him, she knew it would have been much worse. As she heard Louis' breathing begin to even out, she moved away as far away from him as she could. She could tell he wasn't far away from sleep, and she wanted to be nowhere near him. Louis being unconscious was a small reprieve from the personal Hell she currently found herself.

She had moaned and called his name when she knew it was appropriate for her to do so as they had sex, but it had all been act. She hated it. She hated him touching her. She hated him kissing her. She hated him inside of her. She felt dirty. She felt used. _He's your fiancée, Blair. You love him, remember? _She said to herself. Yes. Of course. Louis was her fiancée. She loved him. They had just hit a rough patch. It would all be fine. She sighed, resolved that everything would be alright in the morning. Her Louis would be back in the morning, and he'd never hurt her again. He loved her. She continued to say this to herself as she drifted off into slumber.

_Everything is going to be ok._

Xoxo.

The elevator to the Van der Woodsen penthouse opened and Chuck stepped inside. He needed to speak to Serena immediately. As the elevator door closed, he realized how quiet the apartment was. Chuck had been awake all night, drinking scotch and fighting the urge to call Blair or hire a hitman, and he wasn't even sure what time it was. The silence he was met with indicated that it was early – probably too early. _You own a Piaget. Maybe check the time on it, or something, _he chastised himself.

No. This was too important. This was _Blair. _He didn't care what time it was, he had to find Serena and wake her up. He climbed the stairs as quietly as he could, making his way to Serena's room, his old bedroom, back when he still lived here. _Before Blair_. The door was closed so he knocked softly, and he received a half-asleep "Come in," as a response.

Serena was sprawled across her bed, on top of her covers, still in her clothes and makeup from last night.

"Hey, sis."

Serena winced. "Chuck? What time is it? My head hurts. Did you bring food?" she asked hopefully.

"I honestly have no idea what time it, sis, I've been up all night. You were drunk last night, so that explains the headache, and no, I don't have food. I need to talk to you."

Serena grabbed one of her pillows and covered her face with it. "It's too bright. Can we talk later?"

_Goddamn it, Serena._ "No, Serena, we can't talk later. This is serious," Chuck replied.

"What's _serious_ is my headache, Chuck!" Removing her pillow from her face for a split second, she looked at her phone. "Chuck, it's 7 AM. Go away," she groaned.

"Serena, it's about Blair."

"Blair?" she asked meekly.

"Yes, Serena. Blair. Your best friend? Remember her? Or are you too hungover?"

"Ugh!" Serena threw the pillow away from her face, wincing as the sunlight hit her eyes. She sat up to face Chuck, even as her stomach rebelled. "I feel sick, Chuck, this better be good."

Chuck ran his hands across his face before pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "It's bad, Serena. It's really bad."

"My hangover? Yeah, it sure is. Get to the point."

"Serena," he said softly, trying to contain his anger, "this is not about you. In case you can't recall, we talked about Blair the other night. At the gala."

"I remember," she responded, "vaguely," she added softly.

"Jesus Christ, Serena, do you not notice anything?" Chuck couldn't contain his rage any longer.

"Chuck, people are still asleep in this house," she whispered, her eyes on him huge, searching. "What have I not noticed?"

Chuck looked away from her and bit his lip, and he once again pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "You have any scotch here?" He asked her, exasperated.

"Chuck," Serena said softly, "It's 7 AM. That's early, even for you, don't you think?'

Chuck sighed, exhausted, and sat down on the bed next to Serena. "Just…Go get some type of alcohol. We both need it. Hair of the dog, Serena."

Serena narrowed her eyes at him, concerned. Everyone knew that Chuck Bass drank scotch like it was water, but this seemed different. Serena knew his predilection for scotch better than most – before she left for boarding school, they had often gotten drunk together just because – but she knew that right now, he needed to drink to calm himself down. It was 7AM, after all. Early even by Chuck Bass standards. Bringing herself out of her hungover haze, Serena realized Chuck had mentioned he was here to talk about Blair. Clearly it was important. "Fine, I'll be right back."

Making her way to the kitchen and to Lily and Rufus' stash of liquor, Serena chose a bottle of scotch that looked abhorrently expensive, and was sure to please Chuck. Sighing, she poured two glasses of the scotch, one finger for her and three for Chuck. He was right, it would help her hangover. Grabbing the glasses, she quietly made her way back to her room.

Serena opened the door with glasses in hand, and handed the fuller glass to Chuck. She studied him for a moment. Chuck's eyes were bloodshot, he clearly hadn't slept, he was probably already or, more likely, still drunk. "So…Chuck…to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Taking the glass of scotch from Serena he took a large swallow, relishing the burn as it made its way down his throat. "It's bad, Serena. Very bad."

"What is?" Serena asked, confused.

Chuck took another swallow of scotch and paused before speaking, attempting to gather his thoughts. "He hurts her," he responded in what was barely above a whisper, his voice breaking.

"Who? What?" She asked.

_Why are you so dense, Serena? _"Ok, I'll be more specific, Serena," he seethed. "Louis. He hurts Blair," he continued, slowly, hoping she would understand.

"Oh, please. Of course he does. She hurts him, too, that's how relationships are, sometimes. You would know," she replied, completely nonchalant.

Chuck felt rage building within him. He could almost see red. He took a few deep breaths before he realized that Serena truly didn't understand, because he hadn't explained anything. _You're the only one who knows_. His rage broke, and he felt completely calm. He couldn't explode, he couldn't throw insults at Serena. It wasn't her fault and this was too important. "Serena, Louis hits her."

Serena spoke in a voice he almost couldn't hear, "What?"

"He hits her, Serena," he replied, finishing his scotch in one gulp.

"That's why she wanted me to move out of the penthouse...Not so she and Louis could be alone…" she said quietly, to herself.

"It's been going on for a while," he responded. "I just found out last night. I don't know how I didn't see it before," he replied, berating himself. "I know her so well…But I couldn't see he was hurting her? That she was hurting at all? How?" Chuck felt a sob escape his throat.

"Chuck, you know how well she hides things when she's ashamed," Serena responded, wrapping her arms around her stepbrother.

"I told her to be with him. I told her I had to let her go, so she could be happy. Serena, what have I done?" He felt that he was on the verge of tears, but Chuck Bass didn't cry. "What did I do? She was going to leave him for me and I stopped her…because I thought he could make her happy and I couldn't."

Serena pulled him closer. "You didn't know, Chuck."

He sobered quickly, slightly humiliated at his weakness. "I didn't know. Now I do. She's terrified of him, Serena. We have to do something."

"Like what, Chuck?"

"First step, stop being a shitty friend. Be best friends again. She'll confide in you."

"She's been avoiding me," she replied.

"Of course she has been. Don't take no for an answer, Serena. I know she needs you…needs someone."

"And you?" She asked.

"I don't know yet. I'm considering having him killed."

"Chuck…That's a bit much, even for you…"

"I know. But this is Blair, love of my life. And someone is hurting her. Where else did you expect my mind to go?"

"Honestly, right about there. Although I'd thought he'd be dead already, honestly," she replied.

"Just try to get close to her again. She needs you."

Serena looked into Chuck's bloodshot eyes once more. "I'll do my best, Chuck. I really will, but I can't promise anything. She blows me off every time we make plans, or she'll tell me she's busy when I try to make them. Sometimes she won't even answer calls, and she only texts me back half of the time."

Chuck nodded slowly. "Please try, Serena. I can't right now, she made it abundantly clear that me contacting her is not a good idea. Do it for me and do it for Blair."

"She needs you, too, Chuck," Serena said softly, taking Chuck's hand in her own.

"I know, but my presence will just make whatever situation with her and Louis even worse. I have to protect her, that's more important right now."

"I'll call her in a few hours, ok? I'll try to make her come out to dinner with me tonight."

Chuck nodded and closed his eyes. With Serena's hand still covering his own, the two step-siblings sat on the bed lost in their own respective thoughts as the bright morning sun flooded Serena's room, lighting up the brightly colored, airy room - a promise of another bright new day in New York.

Funny, Chuck felt like he was suffocating.

Xoxo.

As soon as Serena felt her hangover dissipate, she called Blair. "Hey, B!"

"Serena? Hi."

"B, I've been sucking at best friend things lately. Can we have dinner tonight?

Blair paused. She missed her best friend terribly. It had been months since she felt she had properly spent time with her. In fact, Blair realized, the last time she had really talked to Serena was right before she had asked Serena to move out of the penthouse, under the guise that she and Louis wanted to spend more time together alone, as a real couple who was soon to be married.

Of course, the real reason she had asked Serena to move out of the apartment was a combination of two things: Mainly, Louis ordering Blair to make her best friend leave, and frankly Blair agreed to do so simply out of her own crippling shame over her relationship with her fiancée. What Blair hadn't realized at the time, was that Serena leaving wouldn't make her relationship with Louis any better, but would make the abuse she suffered as his hands worse.

_Abuse. _ Blair shuddered at the word that ran through her head. _Nope. It's fine. Everything is ok. He loves me. I know it._

"B? You still there," called Serena, after Blair hadn't responded.

"Sorry, S, I got distracted. Dorota ordered the wrong flowers again. I asked for hydrangeas and she ordered _hyacinths_, can you honestly believe that? I know English isn't her first language, but I mean, come on - "

Serena quickly interrupted Blair's diatribe, "B, as much as I love listening to you harass Dorota, I'm trying to make plans with you! When was the last time we hung out?"

"I know it's been awhile, S. But I've been really busy."

"B, that's what you always say. Do you not want to hang out with anymore?" Serena asked, feigning hurt. She could pretend to be oblivious when she wanted to.

"No, Serena, it's not that…" Blair bit her lip, trying to come up with an excuse. _Avoiding you is just easier than lying to you, that's all. _

"Well then what?" Serena probed.

Blair could literally think of no other explanation for Serena, so instead responded with the only thing guaranteed to get Serena off of her back, "Ok, S. We'll have dinner tonight. Butter, 8 o'clock?" She could always cancel later, through text, so there would be no third-degree.

"Perfect! I'll make reservations! Oh, and don't even think about blowing me off later, I'll call Louis and tell him his fiancée has hurt my feelings again!" Serena knew the words were a mistake as soon as they left her mouth. _Why don't you ever think, Serena. This is why people think you're an airhead. _

Blair flinched at the words, even though she knew Serena wasn't aware of the true nature of her and Louis' relationship was like. "Wouldn't even think of it, S!" she responded brightly.

"Good. Hey, B, I love you," said Serena.

"Love you too, S. I'll see you tonight, ok? But I have to go now. Bye." Blair quickly hung up the phone before Serena could respond.

With Serena's voice no longer in her ear, she could savor how quiet the penthouse was at the moment. Louis was at the consulate, Dorota had the day off, so Blair was left alone with her thoughts. Last night hadn't been what she had expected. She had expected Louis to be absolutely furious with her for running off, but instead he had dropped the subject of her unexplained absence quickly. _For now,_ the thought flashed in her mind.

Blair shook her head at herself. They were fine. Louis had said they were fine. Everything was fine and Blair was going to marry her prince and finally live the fairy tale she had always dreamed about. She smiled at the thought of that. For as long as she could remember, all she had ever wanted was to be a princess. From the first moment she had laid eyes on Grace Kelly, she had been obsessed – She had been beautiful, poised, and talented, and a real princess to boot. Everything Blair had ever wanted.

_So why does it feel so empty? I'm not in a palace. I'm in a golden cage. _

The negative thoughts were becoming harder to push away since her conversation with Chuck, when she had asked him if she was unlovable _"Blair, you have made me angry every single day I've known you…I would never…I could never…"_

She needed to stop these negative thoughts _now. _She could feel herself slipping, losing control, and she needed to be in control. She was going to be a princess for goodness' sake. Suddenly an urge struck her, the one thing that always made her feel completely control. _One more time. _With that thought, Blair wandered into the kitchen and to her well-stocked fridge, it was time for a snack. _Or a feast._

Xoxo.

"So she agreed?"

"Yes, Chuck, I already told you. She agreed to dinner at Butter, I'm getting ready to go meet her right now," Serena replied into her phone, slightly exasperated as she tried to put the finishing touches on her lip gloss."

"Great, keep me updated, sis," Chuck replied.

"What? Like you or you PI won't be watching the whole time?" Serena asked, rolling her eyes.

"I told you, Serena, my presence is a bad idea right now. It's killing me but I'm staying away, for now."

Serena knew it had to be serious if Chuck wasn't even having his PI tail Blair. "You're really worried about her, aren't you?" she asked him softly.

"Serena, do you have amnesia? Or are you just stupid? Do you not remember the conversation we had earlier?"

Serena rolled her eyes again. "I love you, too, Chuck. I will keep you updated, but I have to go now or I'm going to be late, bye!"

Making sure her makeup was still intact, Serena grabbed her bag and slipped on her favorite pair of black Louboutins before taking the elevator down from the penthouse, where she found herself on the bustling sidewalk of the Upper East Side. Quickly, Serena hailed a cab and slid into the back seat and began to mentally prepare herself for her dinner with Blair. " 70 West 45th St, please," she told the cab driver.

If she was being completely honest with herself, she had no idea what to expect. She only hoped that Chuck was completely off-base with what he was accusing Louis of doing to Blair. Blair being with Louis had been devastating to Chuck, so was it completely wrong to think that maybe he was making this up so he could weasel his way back to Blair? _No, _Serena reasoned, _not even Chuck Bass is depraved enough to make up a rumor as despicable as this one. _Serena sighed, and pressed her face against the slightly dirty cab window and stared into the dark New York streets, and her thoughts cleared as her cab made its way to Midtown and her best friend.

Once her cab arrived at Butter, Serena paid the cab driver and found herself in front of one New York's hotspots. Looking at her phone, Serena realized that it was 8:15, and she was late. Blair, of course, would already be inside waiting for her, because Blair was _never _late. And Serena _always _was. Sighing, she opened the door to the restaurant and walked up to the hostess. "Hi, reservation is under van der Woodsen. I'm sure my friend is already here," Serena smiled at the hostess.

The hostess looked down at the restaurant's reservations and then back to Serena. "No, no one's at your table yet. But please, follow me, Miss van der Woodsen," she replied, flashing Serena a smile.

"Oh…ok," Serena replied dumbly as she followed the hostess to the table. Blair _late? _

After sitting down and thanking the hostess, Serena pulled out her phone and immediately texted Chuck, _Past 8:15, she's late. _She barely had to wait a minute before she got a response from Chuck. She knew he'd be glued to his phone, waiting for updates.

_She's never late._

_I know that, Chuck, _she replied. _But she is tonight. I'm going to text her, see where she is._

Finding Blair in her message threads, she quickly texted her, _B, where are you? Never thought I'd beat you someplace!_

_Hey, S. Running late. Be there in 10._

Serena closed her phone and put it in her lap. She needed a drink.

Ten minutes passed, and then twenty minutes had passed. This was completely out-of-character for Blair. Once again, she opened up her phone to text Chuck. _Said she was running late, I've been here for almost 30 mins. This is weird, Chuck._

_I know_, he responded quickly.

"Hey, S!" Blair's voice greeted her as the same hostess let her to their table.

"Hey, B, I was starting to get worried. I've never seen you be late before."

"Sorry, lost track of time! Wedding details, you know," Blair rolled her eyes as she sat down at the table. "So much to do, so little time."

Serena looked at her best friend. Her makeup was impeccable, not a hair out-of-place and she looked stunning in a form-fitted navy cocktail dress. It was the finer details of Blair's appearance that concerned Serena. Blair looked paler than usual, and her cheeks seemed more sunken than normal. Serena knew exactly what the sunken cheeks meant - it was the look of Blair when she was making herself sick. Serena had seen it before. Blair had tried to hide the dark half-moons beneath her eyes, but a purple tinge was still visible to Serena. Serena had sworn she would play cool, but in the face of so many red flags glaringly obvious sitting directly in front of her, she grabbed Blair's hand in her own and asked her, "B, are you ok?"

Blair tried to hide her flinch as Serena took her hand. But she saw in Serena's eyes that she had caught it. "Chuck talked to you, didn't he?" she asked, barely managing to get the words out.

"Yeah, B. He did. He's worried about you." There was no use in lying now.

Blair jerked her hand away from Serena. "Well, as you can see I'm fine. And I think dinner tonight was clearly a mistake. Thank you for the invitation, but I think I simply must be going now," Blair said, gathering her things a moving to leave.

"Blair, wait. We just want to help," Serena pleaded.

"I don't need your help, Serena," Blair answered coldly. "And I don't need Chuck's. Now could you both mind your own business and stop meddling in mine?"

"Blair, wait –"

"Goodbye, Serena," replied Blair and she stalked out of the restaurant.

_Well, fuck._

Serena sighed and took a large gulp of the cocktail to her right before pulling out her phone. _Saying it went poorly would be an understatement. Sorry, C. _

Xoxo.

Chuck had been drinking with Nate while Serena waited for Blair at Butter. He was on his fifth glass of scotch, but his nerves would not be stilled. Blair was late. Blair was _never _late. _What if she's hurt? What if he hurt her? What if she needs me? _Chuck's mind was working overtime, and he went to dial his PI for the fourth time in the past twenty minutes.

"Man, you seem on edge tonight."

Nate's voice brought him out his mental war. "Sorry, Nathaniel, have a lot on my mind this evening," Chuck responded, trying to keep the terror that was building inside of him out of his voice.

"Blair? Wanna smoke a joint, it'll help calm your nerves," Nate responded.

"You know me so well, Nathaniel. Yes, it's Blair," Chuck replied. There was no use in lying. Nate wasn't the brightest, but he was intuitive. And he knew how Chuck felt about Blair. No, so Chuck couldn't lie. But he wouldn't tell Nate the real reason he was on edge about Blair, not tonight. Chuck was hoping that Serena could get through to her tonight at dinner, and he wanted to involve as few people as possible.

"Louis again?"

"Something like that," Chuck replied, gulping down his sixth glass of scotch.

Nate raised an eyebrow at his best friend. "Chuck, you forget I've been through numerous lost weekends with you. I know what Chuck Bass looks like after you've been drinking for 24 hours straight…Maybe more," he added, after observing Chuck for a moment. "What's going on, man?"

"I really can't tell you, Nathaniel."

Nate stared at Chuck for a brief moment, narrowing his eyes, before slowly accepting his best friend's answer. "Alright, Chuck…Let me know if anything changes." Being friends with Chuck Bass, it was sometimes better not to ask questions.

Chuck's phone vibrated in his lap, and he immediately grabbed it, almost sending it across the room in the process. _Fuck, I'm drunk._

_Saying it went poorly would be an understatement. Sorry, C._

_What do you mean? _Chuck quickly texted back.

_I couldn't hold it in. She's been making herself sick, C. As soon as I saw her I knew. I asked if she was ok and she immediately knew you had talked to me. She told us to stay out of her business. I'm sorry_

Chuck's blood ran cold. _She's been making herself sick. _He wasn't even surprised by this revelation – whenever Blair felt like she had completely lost control she would resort to purging. He realized how badly she was hurting and felt something tear inside him, potentially his heart. Chuck ran his hand over his face and held his eyes shut. He had to do something. He had said he would stay away from Blair for the time being, but the fact that she was hurting herself was too much. Chuck pulled out his phone and finally hit the call button for his PI, who answered after 3 rings. "Andrew, it's Chuck Bass. I need you to tail Louis Grimaldi. Let me know when he's not around Blair Waldorf. I will pay triple your normal fee, but be discrete. If he catches wind he's being followed, you will never work in New York again. Got it?"

Nate looked at his best friend with his eyes narrowed. "Chuck, something I need to know?"

"The less you know, the better, Nathaniel. But if you hear from Blair, let me know. Got it?"

Nate held up his hands in defeat and smirked. "Got it, Chuck. Now about that joint…?" he asked hopefully.

Chuck wasn't even listening, he could only hear his heart thumping in his ears.


	4. Pretenders

**Disclaimer: **Don't own

**Chapter 4 – Pretenders**

_HOW DARE THEY. _Blair could barely contain her rage at Chuck and Serena. How could they? How could _he?_ She had trusted him and she had betrayed her secret without a second thought. _How dare they._ She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She just wanted to go home. _Home. _Where was home? It used to be the penthouse she now lived in with Louis, the one she had grown up in, with her mother and father…and then just her mother, and later on with Serena, before she had asked her to leave. That place now felt like a prison. Louis would be waiting for her, she knew. He wasn't happy that she had agreed to go out with Serena, but she had begged to let her go, and he relented, eventually. Louis, waiting for her, she couldn't do it again. Not tonight.

"Where to, Miss?"

Where was home? She didn't even think, the words simply slipped out of her mouth to her cab driver, "Empire Hotel." She knew it was the wrong answer, but she was on autopilot. Even with how furious she was at Chuck, the Empire seemed more like a home that the place she grew up in.

She paid the cab driver and stood in front of the Empire in the cold night air. She realized then that she had left her coat at Butter after she had stormed away from Serena and she shivered as the cold chilled her to the bone. She needed a drink, and then maybe she'd be able to go to her _real_ home. Home to Louis.

After two drinks, she found herself not in a cab on her way home to Louis, but instead inside in the elevator of the Empire, heading towards the penthouse. She was tipsy, but not drunk, yet she had no recollection of getting in the elevator and pressing the button to take her to his floor. _Well, I might as well yell at him while I'm her, _she reasoned. Arriving at the penthouse suite, she used the key card he had given her so long ago and inserted it in the slot. The light flashed green and the elevator opened onto the very familiar entryway. The entryway was dark, and the penthouse was silent. "Chuck?" she called softly. She didn't hear a response and she crumbled, suddenly realizing that she had really hoped he would be here.

Walking further into the penthouse, she took it all in. Maybe this would be the last time she would be here. She wanted to remember it all. Blair walked into the living room and there she found Chuck, alone and in the dark, glass of scotch in his hands and his eyes black, staring at nothing. She knew the look well, she had seen it only once before – the day Bart died. It was the look of a man being consumed by his own mind. "Chuck?"

Chuck's eyes snapped into focus and onto her. "Blair," he whispered. He rose to meet her but he stumbled, clearly intoxicated.

Blair went to him and placed her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sit back down. "You're drunk, Chuck."

"I am," he replied.

"Why?"

His eyes locked with hers and what she could see his reflected in them. "You know exactly why, Blair. Why are you making yourself sick?" he responded.

"How did you know that?" she replied, not even bothering to lie. Chuck had known she was sick in high school, months before Serena had.

"Serena. Why are you doing it?" he asked

"I don't know."

"Not good enough, Blair. Why?" Chuck replied.

"It's the only thing I can control right now, Chuck. I need to be in control of something, you know that," Blair's face fell as she replied. She was completely ashamed of herself.

Even drunk, he saw the change in her. "Hey," he said softly, placing his hand on the side of her face. "Stop. You don't have to be ashamed, not in front of me. Not ever. When have I ever judged you for it?"

"Never," she replied, leaning into his hand slightly.

"And I'm not now. I just want you to be ok," he said, his voice breaking. "Why are you here, Blair?"

"Why did you tell Serena?" she countered.

"Will you answer my question if I answer yours?" he asked, treading lightly.

"Yes."

Chuck took a deep breath, steeling himself for her reaction to his explanation. He knew that Blair was no doubt feeling betrayed by him. "I told Serena because I'm absolutely terrified. You begged me not to contact you so, and I know my presence would be problematic. I want to protect you, but I know I'd only make it worse. I did the only thing I could think of. I told Serena. I'm not sorry."

"Anyone else?" she asked quietly.

"Just Serena," Chuck responded. "Now why are you here?"

Blair sat down next to him on the couch and grabbed the scotch glass from him before downing what was left. "After meeting up with Serena, I just wanted to go home. Then I realized, I don't know where home is anymore. Before I knew it I just told the cab driver to come here."

"You took a cab?" he asked in disbelief.

"I didn't want Louis to know where I was. Even though he'll figure it out eventually. Can I have another drink?" she asked.

Chuck poured her two fingers of scotch from the bottle on the coffee table and offered it to her. "Cheers, Waldorf," he said darkly. He waited a moment, after she had taken swig of the scotch. "He's still not allowed on the premises," he said quietly.

"Why? I thought you guys were best friends," she replied sarcastically.

He allowed a light laugh at that. "I'm just telling you that you're safe here. And don't be mad at Serena. Her asking you to dinner was my idea. I asked her to do it."

"I can't stay here forever, Chuck. And I'm not mad at Serena…It's just…"

"You don't want to face reality," he finished.

Blair's head turned so fast she felt her neck crack. "Excuse me?" she asked sharply.

"You don't want to face reality. I know you, Waldorf. I know exactly what thoughts are going on in your head right now. The biggest threat to the movie of your life is Serena and me knowing that it's not actually a fairy tale - not even close. There's no happy ending with Louis, and we both know it. And you're trying to convince yourself that happiness is on the horizon. That once you marry him everything will be perfect." Chuck knew it was harsh. But it was the truth. "This won't stop just because you marry him, you know," he continued, softer.

She took another swallow of scotch. "So, what? I'm supposed to dump my fiancée because he got a little rough with me once?"

"Lie to me all you want, Blair. It happens all the time," he replied softly. "Stop pretending it's fine. It's me. The worst thing you've ever done…The darkest thought you've ever had…" He grabbed her hand, hoping she wouldn't pull away.

She didn't pull away, instead she intertwined her fingers with his. "What am I supposed to do, Chuck?"

"Leave him. And I'm not saying this because I'm jealous, or because I want you, even if both of those things are true. I'm saying it because this is not ok, and you deserve better, Blair." He squeezed her hand.

"I'm afraid," she whispered.

"It'll be ok, baby," he responded. "I'm here, Serena's here. Nate will be, too. I promise."

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Anything," he replied immediately.

"Every time you call me 'baby' I instantly feel safe," she wasn't sure where the words came, maybe the alcohol or from the fact that Chuck already knew her two biggest secrets, but she knew they were true.

Chuck kissed her forehead. "You are safe, baby, I promise."

"Louis is probably looking for me right now," she whispered.

"Don't pull this again, Blair. Don't run to me to feel safe, and once you do, go back to him," he responded darkly. "It's not fair to me or to you."

"I'm sorry about the other night," she replied. "I panicked. I was scared. I disappeared and I knew it would be bad. The later it got, I figured the worse it would be. He forgave me almost immediately." She grimaced.

"What was that face for?" he asked.

"He didn't hit me, so that was good," she replied.

"Blair."

"We had sex. I didn't want to," she finally answered him. She added quickly, knowing what Chuck had to be thinking, "He didn't rape me, if that's what you're thinking – I never said no." Chuck was squeezing her hands so hard they hurt. "Chuck, you're hurting me," she whimpered, pulling away from him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you…I just, don't know how to handle what you just said." His voice was dark and cold.

"Chuck, look at me," she whispered.

Chuck did as she asked and his eyes immediately met hers. "Do you still love me, Blair?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then leave him. If not for you, then for me," he begged.

"I don't know if I can," she replied.

"Why?" he asked.

"I've tried, Chuck. He makes me doubt myself, doubt my reasoning, doubt my sanity."

"That's an abusive relationship, Blair. You are beautiful, and smart, and amazing. And yes, a bit insane, I'll be honest, but not in the way he makes you believe."

Maybe the scotch had gone to her head, or maybe it was his words. "Love me, Chuck," she said, leaning into him.

"I already do, I always have," he replied.

"Show me?" she asked.

"Blair…"

"Oh," her face fell. "Never mind, then. I should go then."

Blair moved to leave and he grabbed her arm, too hard. He felt her flinch, "I'm sorry. Please don't leave. Stay."

"Why don't you want me?" she asked, her voice breaking.

The dejection on her face made him feel sick. "I do want you, Blair. I want you more than anything I've ever wanted anything. But we're both drunk. You're engaged. I can't have you, not like this," he responded. He didn't even bother to mention how emotionally fragile she was right now, that he would feel like he was taking advantage of her. He knew that would mostly end with a slap to his face.

"Chuck Bass is a gentleman, who knew?" she smiled wryly.

"You made me into one," he replied, easily. "Took a while, but here I am."

She didn't know how to respond that. If she could change Chuck could she change Louis? Did she want to change Louis? She yawned, suddenly realizing just how exhausted she was, mentally, physically, and emotionally. "I don't want to go back there tonight, Chuck," she said when she noticed him observing on her. "Can I stay?"

"I don't want you to go back ever," he answered. "So yes, of course you can stay. I'll take the couch, you can have the bed."

That wasn't what she wanted. She wanted his arms around her, protecting her. "Chuck?"

"Yes?

"Would it be horrible of me to ask for you to sleep next to me?" she asked.

"Only if you promise not to leave before I wake up," he responded.

"I won't, I promise."

He pressed his lips against her forehead. "Come on, let's try to get some sleep."

Xoxo.

_"__Chuck?"_

_"__Hey, Waldorf. Happy Thanksgiving. You alright? You sound strange," replied Chuck._

_"__I did something bad today and I need you not to judge me."_

_"__Like I could ever judge you, Waldorf," Chuck scoffed into the phone._

_"__I'm serious, Chuck." Chuck could almost hear her crying on the other end of the phone. _

_"__I'm here, Waldorf, talk to me."_

_"__My mother told Daddy not to come Thanksgiving, and then lied to me about. And I – I just lost it. I just ate a whole pie…a whole fucking pie, Chuck," she sobbed._

_Chuck's breath caught, he knew exactly what that meant. "Where's Serena?"_

_"__We got into a fight. I'm sorry to bother you. I didn't know who else to call."_

_"__No, don't. You aren't. I'm in Monaco, though, otherwise I'd already be on my way to you."_

_"__Oh...I forgot." Blair knew Chuck was going to Monaco over Thanksgiving, how could she forget?_

_"__Call Serena, Blair, ok? Whatever fight you had, she cares about you too much. Call me tonight, if you still need me I'll fly out in the morning, ok?"_

_"__Ok, Bass," she smirked softly. "Can I call you later?"_

_"__I'd like nothing more."_

_Chuck Bass was many things, but he was always someone she could run to when things got hard. _

Blair shuddered awake from her dream, or rather, her memory. She opened her eyes to the darkness and she realized she wasn't in her own room. Coming out of her slumber, she found that there was a strong arm wrapped around her back, holding her close to his chest, and she felt his legs tangled with hers. Blair also noticed that one of her arms was wrapped around his waist – They had been clutching onto each other for dear life in their sleep. _Chuck, _she breathed a sigh of relief. It was pitch black, but the moonlight streaming through Chuck's bedroom window allowed her to see his face clearly. She had always loved to look at Chuck while he was sleeping, as it was the only time his face was relaxed. Blair had always joked that Chuck looked like a little boy when he was completely asleep, because he slept with a slight smile on his face. He also snored. Chuck had always staunchly denied both of Blair's claims, but she knew the real Chuck Bass: He smiled in his sleep _and _he snored. Blair smiled at the thought.

Tonight, she noticed, was different. Chuck's face was clenched, and his brow was furrowed, like he was thinking very hard about something. He didn't look peaceful at all, he looked tortured. Frowning, she ran a hand up to his cheek, wanting to smooth his face. At the touch of her hand, Blair felt Chuck's jaw unclench and loosen. Blair heard his breathing and she knew she had woken him up. Chuck was usually such a heavy sleeper, but tonight he seemed like he was on high alert, like he was waiting for something. _He thought I was going to leave him_, she realized.

"I'm sorry. Was I snoring?" he asked her softly, with just the slightest hint of slumber in his voice.

"No, your face…You looked so frustrated. I'd never seen you look like that when you sleep."

"Sleep has been hard for me to come by lately," he responded.

Blair softly stroked his cheek with her fingers. "Because of me?" He didn't respond, but she felt a slight nod under her fingers. At his response, she tilted her face towards his and planted a small, soft kiss on the side of his mouth. It was a small gesture, but it was the most intimate they had been in months and Chuck's eyes filled with an emotion she didn't quite recognize. _Love, longing, appreciation._ "You need to sleep, Chuck," she said gently.

He sighed and rolled over, pulling her with him, so he was laying on his back and she on his chest. Running a hand absently through her hair, he replied, "I know. But I can't get my mind to shut off."

"Can I help?" Blair asked softly.

Chuck's arm tightened around her waist and he pulled her closer. "You already are."

Xoxo.

They laid like together like this in silence for a while, as the room began to brighten around them. It was morning, the morning which neither one had wanted to come. "Do you know where my phone is, Chuck?" Blair asked, breaking their silence. She had kept her promise to Chuck, she had stayed until he was awake. But in the bleak light of day, she realized she had to deal with her life. With _Louis_.

Chuck let out a heavy breath before he leaned over the nightstand next to his bed. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out Blair's phone and turned in on for her.

"You stole it?" she asked, incredulous.

Chuck merely shrugged. "My suite, my rules." Softening, he added, "You sure you want to see what's on there?"

Blair looked up from her phone which was booting up and up at Chuck. "You read my texts, too?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, I turned it off before you got anything. I'm just hazarding a guess…"

She felt nauseous as she saw the texts, calls, and voicemails fill the screen of her phone. "You're right, I don't want to read them," she said shakily, her eyes welling with tears. She had messed up the first time when she had run to Chuck, but she was in real trouble now. She had told Louis she was meeting Serena for dinner, and instead had ended up spending the night in Chuck Bass' bad. "What am I going to do, Chuck?" She felt herself breaking. "I am in so much trouble."

Chuck saw Blair's breathing become shallow and he knew she was starting to panic. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him in what he knew was a useless attempt to comfort her. "What do you want to do, Blair?"

"I want this all to just stop," she cried into his chest.

He held her as her body was wracked by sobs and he could feel her tears dampening the cotton shirt he had worn to bed. "Shh…it's ok," he said, pressing a kiss into her hair.

"It's not ok, Chuck!" she yelled, jerking her head up to meet his eyes. "I shouldn't have come here last night, I made _another _mistake, and Louis is going to be so angry! I got lucky last time but I'm not going to be so lucky this time."

"So you're going to go back to him?" Chuck asked, feeling his heart break once more as he watched the girl he loved cry in front of him.

Blair sobered at his response. "Yes, Chuck. I never had any other intentions. You said it yourself last night – I'm engaged."

Chuck nodded slowly. "If that's what you want to do, Blair," he responded, feeling completely defeated.

"It is. Thank you for being a shoulder to cry on last night, Chuck. I really appreciate but I should be going," she said, standing from the bed and trying to gather her things.

"You're doing it again, Blair. You're avoiding reality. I was not a 'shoulder to cry on' last night – that's bullshit and you know it. You came to me because you're afraid to live in your own house. You're afraid of the man you live with. So don't act like it was less than that."

_He has a point, you know, _the flashed through her mind but Blair shook it off. "I told you it only happened once. I am fine." Blair met his eyes and they were full of pain and sadness. Her heart lurched.

"Fine, Blair," he replied, conceding. "You're fine. Go home."

"With pleasure."

Xoxo.

The elevator door to Blair's penthouse slid open, and Blair prepared herself for what was inevitably waiting for her. She was shaking and she could feel beads of sweat beading at the nape of her neck. She exhaled the breath she was holding in and stepped inside. Louis wasn't waiting for, which frightened her even more. Taking a few more steps inside, she saw the mess.

The vase of flowers that always stood at the entryway was laying broken on the floor, flowers strewn everywhere in a generous puddle of water. There was a hole in the wall, clearly made by a fist. Moving into the parlor, pillows were ripped and thrown carelessly across the floor, and the coffee table laid on its side, books and magazines casualties to its displacement. Blair closed her eyes, she didn't want to see any more of the destruction. Clearly someone was very, very angry. _Louis _was very, very angry. She felt a sudden pain in her chest, and something inside of her screamed, _Run. Run now. _As with all of the other negative voices that were giving their unsolicited opinions these days, she ignored it.

"Ah," came a bright voice behind her. "There is my whore of a fiancée. Where have you been all night?" Louis laughed. "And don't bother lying to me, I know you were with Chuck."

Blair turned around to face her fiancée, "Louis, I –" Before she could speak any further, Louis slapped her across the face so hard she lost her balance and fell to the ground. Louis walked to where she had fallen and loomed over her, threatening, terrifying. Blair closed her eyes and waited for her punishment, one thought in her head on repeat: _I told you to run. _

Xoxo.

It was still morning, but Chuck was once again standing in front of the window of his suite, glass of scotch in hand. The memories of this morning were replaying in his head. He shouldn't have given up so easily, he shouldn't have let her leave. He knew what she would be met with would be terrible.

Chuck had lied to Blair this morning, in fact, he had seen every one of Louis' text messages, each more threatening than the last. He had hidden her phone after he had seen the first message come through, while she was in the bathroom washing her face. _Where are you, bitch? Come home. Now. _Chuck's stomach curdled the same way it had when he had first read the message. _Bitch._ How dare he? His glass slammed down on the windowsill and shattered all over the floor. _Fuck. You have to pull yourself together, Bass._

As Chuck mentally chastised himself, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, ever hopeful that it was Blair, but smirked when he saw _Andrew Tyler_ on his caller ID. He had all but forgotten about the call he had made to Tyler last night. "Tyler, what have you got for me?"

"First time he's left the Waldorf penthouse since yesterday. He's at 169 right now. And Mr. Bass, you might want to quadruple my fee after what I'm about to tell you," Tyler responded with a slight chuckle.

"The Lower East Side? Don't fuck with me, Tyler."

"I am not fucking with you, Bass. He's with a woman, and it's not Blair Waldorf."

He felt the color drain from his face. Not only was Louis hurting Blair, he was cheating on her. _I want to fucking tear you apart. _Originally, Chuck's reasoning behind calling Andrew Tyler was so he could know when it was safe for him to contact Blair. But catching Louis cheating was just too good to pass up on. "Get pictures and consider your pay quadrupled. I'm heading there now but I want pictures for posterity just in case I don't catch them in time.

Tyler chuckled into the phone, "Pictures are already in your email, Bass. As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you."

Xoxo.

20 minutes later, Chuck Bass was in the Lower East Side, standing in what could only be described of as a dive bar. He shuddered at the thought. Andrew Tyler _had _to be fucking with him. Gathering himself, he pushed the door open to the bar. It was late afternoon, so the bar wasn't too full, and Louis and his _friend _were easy enough to spot. Having located the pair, he slipped into a booth in darkened corner, ordered a scotch from the waitress, and proceeded to watch the pair.

Sipping the scotch the waitress brought, he almost gagged. _Clearly not fucking single malt. _Pushing the offending drink away, he turned back to the task at hand. He didn't have to wait too long. Louis hand was resting on the girl's thigh, rubbing it up and down. As Chuck watched, Louis' face inched closer and closer to girl's, until their lips met. Using his phone, Chuck took a picture. Satisfied with his own evidence, Chuck moved from his hidden booth to take a seat next to Louis. "Louis, what a surprise and a pleasure to see you here," Chuck drawled, holding out his hand for other man to shake.

Louis turned to Chuck, and his turned cruel. "Charles, a surprise indeed," he replied, shaking Chuck's offered hand.

"Was wondering if I could speak to you privately, Louis? I don't want to interrupt your _date,_" Chuck seethed, "but it really is imperative that we speak."

The girl looked at Louis, then to Chuck. "I should freshen up, anyways," she said weakly, getting up from her seat quickly and scurrying away.

"Chuck, what are you doing here?' Louis asked darkly.

"I should ask you the same question, Louis," replied Chuck, motioning to the girl's empty seat.

"Just an acquaintance," Louis stated.

"Right, and I'm the King of England," said Chuck, lazily rolling his eyes. "I don't care about your concubine, Louis, I'm here to attend to much more pressing matters anyway."

Louis looked confused. "What other matters?"

"Blair," Chuck responded roughly.

Louis smirked. "Ah, yes, Blair." _Bleh._

"I know exactly what you've been doing to her, Louis. If you ever harm another hair on her head, I will destroy you. Do you understand?"

Louis blanched momentarily, before quickly replying, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Actually, Louis, I do. I know exactly how you hurt her. And I'm telling you, you hurt her _ever _again, and I will hurt _you_."

"Are you threatening me, Chuck? You know how powerful I am, don't you? I could hurt you more than you could ever hurt me," Louis scoffed.

"Not likely, Louis. And I don't care what happens to me, I care about what happens to _her. _So consider yourself warned, Louis." Chuck's eyes rose to meet Louis' and he pulled his face into a smirk.

"You realize who you're threatening, right? I'm Prince Louis Grimaldi of Monaco," stated Louis.

"Ah, yes," Chuck said with a small laugh. "But I'm Chuck Bass." With a smirk and a wink towards Louis, Chuck left the prince alone in the bar.

**Reviews are appreciated. Drop me a line and let me know if you love it, or hate it. Got some pretty big things coming up in this story (;**


	5. Sirens

**Chapter 5 – Sirens**

It was late afternoon and Blair was in laying in her bed, curtains drawn and her room dark. Louis had left an hour ago and she just wanted to hide under the covers, hide in the darkness of her room. The bleakness of her life. She hurt everywhere – there had never been a _punishment_ like this before. By the time she had come home, Louis had completely sobered up, so all of his punches had landed. There was a particularly bad ache on her left side; Every time she breathed she could feel stabbing pains. But she ignored it. She had deserved it, after all.

She had texted Dorota, telling her she wasn't needed today, so instead she heard the strangers she had hired clean up her mess of her apartment. She didn't trust them at all, but pulling herself into a sitting position, she knew, would hurt too much, so she stayed still and hoped they wouldn't steal anything.

_Get up, you're Blair Waldorf. _Blair listened to the voice inside her head, for once. She pulled herself into a sitting position on her bed, gritting her teeth at the pain she felt in her side. _One more time, _she thought to herself. Louis had hit her worse than he ever had, and she needed some semblance of control. She took the back staircase to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of potato chips, a pint of Ben & Jerry's and some Brie cheese and crackers. Feast in hand, she padded back to her room.

She devoured the food quickly and when she finished she felt painfully full. She needed a release. Walking to her bathroom, she leaned down onto the tile of her bathroom floor, right in front of her toilet. Blair stared down into the bowl of the toilet, contemplating. _Do you really want to? _A brief moment of pause. _Yes. _She put her fingers down her throat and felt some of her feast come back up. Not enough. _Again_. It still wasn't enough. The third time she put her fingers down her throat, pain exploded inside of her, something ripping within in her body, and her vision went dark, stars dancing in her eyes. Blair took a deep breath and the ache she felt breathing earlier was now unbearable. She was dizzy and disoriented. She looked to her right, and it seemed like the earth was slipping away as she did so, but she saw her phone. She grabbed the phone before it could slip off the cliff with the rest of her world.

He answered on the second ring, "Blair?"

"Chuck," she whispered. _Focus. Talk. You can do this,_ she thought as her consciousness continued to slip away.

"Blair!?"

"Need you," she whimpered, feeling herself fading quickly.

"I'm here, baby, what do you need?"

She barely heard him. "911…" she responded before she dropped her phone and fell into the dark.

Xoxo.

Chuck was heading back to the Upper East Side when he got the call from Blair. _Need you. _He could tell she was barely coherent. He knew something was wrong, because he could tell Blair wasn't quite there. _911\. _Once he heard Blair's phone hit the floor, Chuck hadn't hesitated for a second, quickly dialing 911. "I have an emergency. Myfriend. I don't know what's wrong but she sounded out of it and asked me to call 911," he barked into the phone. "Please hurry, I'm on my way to her now," he continued, giving the operator Blair's address.

Chuck's limo pulled up to Blair's apartment 10 minutes later and he jumped out of the car before it had even stopped all the way. There was an ambulance and a firetruck directly in front of the building and Chuck rushed forward, desperately looking for any sign of Blair. His world stopped when he saw what was coming towards him from Blair's building. A stretcher, occupied by a short, petite body with thick chocolate curls. "Blair!" he yelled.

One of the EMTs stopped him. "You can't be here, man."

"I was the one who made the call. There's no one else here. Let me ride with her."

The EMT looked around before nodding. "Fine. Get in."

Chuck jumped into the ambulance and took a seat where the EMT nodded. Chuck grabbed Blair's limp hand as he watched the EMTs work, tossing around medical terms that didn't hold any meaning to him. Blair was gray and ashen, with a slight blue tinge to her lips. For the first time, Chuck saw Blair look fragile, like she might just break and burst into smithereens, like an actual porcelain doll.

_Hang on, baby,_ _you can do this._

The ambulance arrived at the hospital, and Chuck felt his hand being yanked from Blair's as the EMTs starting to unload her from the back of the ambulance "I want to stay with her…"

"You can't, man. You'll have to wait in the waiting room while the ER doctor checks her out," said the EMT.

Chuck nodded dumbly. _What the fuck is happening right now?_

"You should call her friends and family," offered the EMT.

"Right…."

Who did he call? Blair wanted no one to know about her issues with Louis, and Chuck was certain this had to do with Louis. Logically, the only person he could call was Serena, at least for now. Pulling out his phone, he found Serena's contact and dialed.

"Hey, Chuck," she answered almost immediately.

"Serena, you need to get to Lennox Hill. Now."

"Lennox Hill? Chuck – what's going on?" she responded, confused.

"Blair. She's in the ER. You need to come now."

"I'm on my way now, Chuck. What happened?" Serena asked, breathless on the other end as she tore through her apartment looking for her bag and shoes.

"I don't know. I – I can't talk about it right now. Just hurry up and get here," Chuck replied, pushing down a sob in his throat.

"I'll be there soon, Chuck."

Xoxo.

Serena hurried into the ER waiting room at Lennox Hill, finding Chuck instantly. "Chuck!" she called breathlessly. She quickened her pace to get to reach him. "Chuck, what's going on?"

Chuck's eyes were black as he looked into hers. "I don't know, Serena. They won't tell me anything."

"Have you called Eleanor?" Serena asked, taking his hand.

"Not yet. I wanted to wait until you got here. I don't know what to do," Chuck managed, his voice strangled. "I don't know what's going on, but I know it has to do with him. And she doesn't want anyone to know. I haven't slept, I've been through three bottles of scotch in 48 hours. I'm not the best person to be making decisions right now." Chuck buried his head in his hands. "I thought about it. I really did. Tell me calling Eleanor is the right thing to do and I'll fucking do it, Serena."

Serena squeezed Chuck's hand. "Let's wait," she said with a small smile. "Just a little bit longer. Until we can talk to her."

Chuck nodded and closed his eyes, resting his head in his hands, exhaling shakily. "What if she dies, Serena?" he asked quietly, finally speaking the words he had been thinking since Blair called him, asking him to call 911.

"Chuck, she's not going to die. This is Blair Waldorf remember? She's the strongest person we know. Probably the strongest person on the face of this planet." Serena went to squeeze his hand.

Chuck shook his head slowly. "She used to be. Every time I see her now, it's like there's another piece of Blair missing. I saw one tiny crack, and even then, it was too late. Now the littlest thing….and she'll shatter. Maybe she already has. Tonight has been the single most horrifying night of my life, Serena."

"Chuck…" Serena was at a loss for words. She had never seen Chuck this emotional before, save the day of his father's funeral_. _Even more surprising, Chuck Bass was actually talking to her about his feelings. "Does Louis know she's here?" _Why the fuck can't you keep your mouth shut, Serena. _She knew it was the absolute worst thing she could say in the moment.

Chuck's head snapped up at that and his voice was gruff as he spoke, "Why the fuck would I tell him?"

"He is her fiancée…" Serena trailed off. _Foot? Meet mouth. You are so dumb._

"I am aware of that, Serena," Chuck growled. "He also had something to do with – with whatever is going on right now. I am not calling him. He doesn't even care – He's probably with his mistress anyway."

Serena's mouth dropped open at Chuck's admission, visibly shocked. "What did you just say?"

"He's having an affair. I found out today," he replied darkly.

"Chuck…"

"Can you stop with the Chuck _dot dot dot_? I'm not really in the mood for dealing with your comprehension skills or inability to connect the dots right now."

Serena closed her mouth at that. "Sorry," she mumbled.

The stepsiblings sat in silence for hours, Serena still holding Chuck's hand in her own when a nurse made her way into the waiting room. "Chuck

?" she asked, looking pointedly at him.

"Yes?" he answered hopefully.

"Blair Waldorf is awake, and she's asking for you," answered the nurse. "Come with me."

"I'll let her know you're here, Serena," he answered, softening towards his stepsister now that he knew Blair was at the very least alive.

The nurse led Chuck down the dim corridor before stopping in front of a door. "She's awake, but exhausted. She's also heavily medicated, so take it easy on her."

"You can't tell me what's wrong with her, can you?" Chuck asked her, imporingly.

The nurse just smiled back sadly. "Not at the moment, no. You aren't immediate family and she doesn't even know what's happened yet. Once the doctor talks to her, things may change."

Chuck didn't even try to fight with the nurse – he was just too tired. He simply nodded and walked into Blair's room. The room was dim and stark and way too white and sterile. _God, I hate hospitals. _Blair was laying in the bed with her eyes closed. She looked way too small and frail, and her face was ashen. Her curls were spread across the hospital pillow but they looked limp and lifeless, lacking their usual glossy sheen. "Blair," he whispered into the darkness, hoping she hadn't fallen asleep, that she was still awake, still there. _Still alive_. The thought ignited a panic in his brain. He rushed to her, having to make sure she was still breathing. "Blair?" he asked once again, more urgently.

"Chuck," she whispered, without opening her eyes.

"I'm here. I'm here." Chuck knelt down next to her bed and grabbed her exposed hand in both of us, pulling it to his lips and softly kissing. "I'm here," he whispered again.

"Hi," she said quietly in response.

Blair turned her head to face him, and slowly opened her eyes. They were blank and glassy. _No shit about the medications._ "Hey, yourself," he replied, managing a soft smile. "You scared me for a minute there, Waldorf." Blair blinked a few times, and Chuck her pupils shrink slightly, becoming slightly more focused.

"What happened?" she asked him quietly.

"I don't really know, Blair. The doctors won't tell me anything. You called me, and you sounded completely out of it. You asked me to call 911 and then you dropped your phone. So here we are," he responded, kissing her hand again.

"Oh," she replied softly, closing her eyes.

"You should sleep, Blair," Chuck said to her softly, repeating her own words to him from the other night.

"Will you stay with me…?" Blair whispered, trailing off, clearly exhausted.

"Yes, baby. I'll stay with you," answered Chuck easily. "Always."

Xoxo.

Chuck woke up in the middle of the night to Blair moaning and crying in her sleep. At some point, he had moved a chair towards her bed and fallen asleep in it with her hand still tangled with his own. Listening to her cries, he was immediately awake. "Blair," he said softly, trying to wake her up. He saw the sweat glistening on her forehead, and the way her jaw clenched. Chuck realized she wasn't having a nightmare - she was in pain. His heart started thumping loudly – he couldn't stand the amount of pain she seemed to be in. He disentangled his fingers from hers and softly as he could before standing and walking out of the room. He had to find a nurse, _now._

Walking out of Blair's room, Chuck found the nurses' station. The same nurse from earlier was seated in front of a computer, a cup of coffee in hand. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Is there something you can give her? She's in pain and crying in her sleep."

The nurse looked up at Chuck, and sighed. "It's been a few hours, I suppose I can give her a little bit more morphine so she can sleep peacefully."

_Morphine? She's in that much fucking pain?_

Chuck remembered the first time he had taken morphine. He had thrown a party the summer before freshman year and Carter Baizen had shown up, back when he still relevant and before he had forsaken his trust fund to travel the world in a baja hoodie. Chuck and Carter had both been bored with the party early on in the night before Carter pulled out a bag with a couple of pills.

_"__The wild and crazy thing gets kind of boring after a while, doesn't it, Bass?" Carter asked, pulling the pills out of his pocket._

_Chuck nodded, taking a sip of his scotch. "That it fucking does, Baizen."_

_"__Want to try something a little bit more fun then, Bass?"_

_"__Depends on what's in the bag," Chuck answered. _

_"__Swiped this from my grandfather. Think he has cancer. Ever taken morphine?" Carter asked_

_"__Nope. You?"_

_Carter had just smirked back at Chuck, affirming that he had. "What do you say we give it a go?"_

_Chuck shrugged, holding out his hand for the pills. "I'll try anything once," he responded, swishing the pills down with a swallow of scotch._

Chuck barely remembered the rest of the night. Once the pills had hit, he and Carter had stopped speaking. Chuck remembered feeling absolutely nothing, thinking absolutely nothing. At one point he hadn't even known his own name. Carter's grandfather had died not long after, and Chuck had realized how strong morphine really was – the only people who got it were people who were dying or in severe pain. "Morphine," he spoke faintly.

"It's time for my rounds anyway, I'll start with her," the nurse responded.

Chuck nodded and followed her blindly to Blair's room. He stood in the corner, observing the nurse take Blair's blood pressure, her temperature, and then administer something into the IV that Blair was hooked up to. Then he saw the nurse lift up Blair's hospital gown and remove a bandage on her ribcage. Chuck's heart fell when he saw what was clearly a surgical incision. "She had surgery, didn't she?" he asked, quietly.

The nurse relented a bit and nodded, without speaking. There was no point in lying, Chuck had seen what he had seen. "I gave her a little more morphine in her drip, and she's settled down now. She should be ok for the rest of the night."

"Thank you," Chuck answered softly. "What's your name?"

The nurse was caught off guard. People rarely asked for her name. "Cassidy, why?"

"Thank you, Cassidy. For taking care of her," Chuck answered.

"It's kind of in my job description."

"It was in mine, too," he responded faintly. _And I failed._

Xoxo.

Serena had fallen asleep in the waiting room of the emergency room waiting for Chuck to come back. Looking at her phone she saw it was 6 AM and Chuck had clearly never come back for her. After checking the time, Serena realized she also had three missed texts from Louis.

_Serena, have you seen Blair?_

_Blair never came home. Any idea where she is? Is she with Chuck?_

_SERENA_

She had irrevocably messed up the first time Chuck had entrusted her with Blair's well-being and she wasn't about to do it again. She unlocked her phone and started typing. _She's with me. Needs some time. _

It was less than 30 seconds before she received a response from Louis. _Needs some time?_

_Time away from you._

_Why?_ He texted back instantly.

_Fuck you, Louis, _she replied before shutting off her phone and lying back on the waiting room sofa.

Xoxo.

He had messed up. He had gotten too angry and trashed the apartment. But goddamn it, she made him so angry. This was her fault, after all. She had never given up Chuck, that much he knew. He knew that she and Chuck had had sex the night they were supposed to come out as an official couple. And that absolutely enraged him in the core of his soul.

He had been raised as a prince, had learned impeccable manners. He knew all the right forks to use, all the pleasantries, all the right words to say. But the night he realized Blair had cheated on him, something inside of him had snapped, and he couldn't pretend to be a mild-mannered prince anymore. _Not anymore._

Truthfully, anger had always bubbled just beneath Louis' surface, always trying to claw its way out. That day, he had finally let it boil over. He had hit her. And he really had been sorry. But his rage could no longer be contained, so he had continued hitting her. Giving into his anger, it felt so satisfying. She was completely under his control while his hands bruised her. All he wanted was to be in control of her. When he let the anger out, he finally felt free. He felt in control. He couldn't compete with her as far as words went; Blair would win any duel that involved words – she was much too clever for her own good. And so, he had chosen his weapon of choice. His hands.

Over time, the guilty feelings had all but dissipated. Every time he hit her felt less bad about it, and more secure in the fact that she deserved it. Especially last night. Blair had deserved everything she had gotten last night. He knew exactly where she was last. _With Chuck Bass._ And she had stayed there all night. The image of them together, fucking, had driven him insane. He needed to break something. Needed to break everything. She had broken them first, so now he just wanted to break her.

Last night he hadn't felt in control at all, he only saw red as he stood over her where she had fallen to the ground. He kicked and hit every part of her body until she stopped moving, until he had knocked her unconscious. He had gone to the guest room to sleep that night, wanting to be able to sleep away from Blair's inevitable crying. Settling into the guest bed, Louis laid his head against the pillow and smiled, remembering the undeniable crack he had heard as one of Blair's bones broke when he had kicked her.

That morning he looked into her room. He didn't really feel like apologizing, but he would if suited him. Blair didn't even roll over to look at him. Instead she just laid there. _Whatever. _Louis rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone to text someone else. _Estee could be fun today_.

Louis invited Estee to 169, a dive bar on the Lower East Side, where he was sure no one would recognize him. He realized the second Chuck Bass sat down next to him at the bar that he was wrong.

"Louis, what a surprise and a pleasure to see you here," Chuck said, holding his hand out to Louis.

"Charles, a surprise indeed," he replied, shaking Chuck's hand

"Was wondering if I could speak to you privately, Louis? I don't want to interrupt your _date, _but it really is imperative that we speak."

The girl looked at Louis, then to Chuck. "I should freshen up, anyways."

"Chuck, what are you doing here?' Louis asked, anxiously.

"I should ask you the same question, Louis," replied Chuck, motioning to the girl's empty seat.

"Just an acquaintance," Louis replied.

"Right, and I'm the King of England," said Chuck with an eye roll. "I don't care about your concubine, Louis, I'm here to attend to much more pressing matters anyway."

"What other matters?"

"Blair," Chuck responded roughly.

Louis smirked. "Ah, yes, Blair." _Stupid whore._

"I know exactly what you've been doing to her, Louis. If you ever harm another hair on her head, I will destroy you. Do you understand?"

"You don't know what you're talking about." Louis smirked.

"Actually, Louis, I do. I know exactly how you hurt her. And I'm telling you, you hurt her _ever _again, and I will hurt _you_."

"Are you threatening me, Chuck? You know how powerful I am, don't you? I could hurt you more than you could ever hurt me," Louis scoffed.

"Not likely, Louis. And I don't care what happens to me, I care about what happens to _her. _So consider yourself warned, Louis." Louis met Chuck's eyes and saw him smirk.

"You realize who you're threatening, right? I'm Prince Louis Grimaldi of Monaco," stated Louis.

"Ah, yes," Chuck laughed. "But I'm Chuck Bass."

Despite Chuck's threats, Louis had spent the afternoon with Estee. It was upon returning to the penthouse that he started to panic. Blair was gone and her phone was on the bathroom floor. _What the fuck._

It was then that Louis started texting Serena. She was Blair's best friend, of course she'd know where she was.

Hours later and Serena hadn't responded to any of the texts he had sent her, so Louis decided a bottle of wine was in order. Selecting a 2010 Leoville-Barton St. Julien, he opened the bottle and promptly poured himself a huge glass. After eventually polishing off the bottle, Louis passed out on the couch.

His eyes opened the next morning, squinting at the morning light. His head was pounding. _What time is it? _7 AM. One text message from Serena.

_Fuck you, Louis. _

Xoxo.

Chuck wasn't sure if it was the sunlight pouring through the windows into his eyes or the horrible pain in his neck that woke him up the next morning. But as soon as he saw Blair breathing softly in the hospital bed, it didn't matter. She was breathing, she was alive. For now, she was alright. _Fuck, Serena._ Chuck realized he had completely forgotten about his stepsister as soon as he had laid eyes on Blair. Checking his Piaget he saw it was just past 6 AM and he quietly left Blair's room to search for Serena. Spotting Cassidy still at the nurses' station, he spoke, "Cassidy, if she wakes up, will you tell her I'm coming back? That I haven't left?"

Cassidy simply nodded. "Of course."

Chuck made his way back to the waiting room, and he found his stepsister sprawled across a couch. Surprisingly enough, she was awake. "Serena," he greeted.

Serena sat up quickly. "Chuck! How is she!?"

"She was pretty out of it last night. She was in a lot of pain last night. She had surgery, but I'm not sure why yet. She's…ok. And she's sleeping, right now," Chuck informed her.

"Surgery?" Serena asked, stunned.

"Yes. Saw the incision myself." Chuck grimaced.

"Louis texted me, Chuck," Serena said gently. "He was looking for her.

Chuck's brow furrowed at Serena's statement. "And? What did you say, Serena? I swear to god."

"I told him she was with me. That she needed time. He asked me why she needed time and I told him to go fuck himself," Serena replied with a smirk.

Chuck couldn't help a small smile cross his face. "Good job, sis." Chuck offered his arm to Serena. "Come on, let's go see our girl."

"Chuck, I don't know, she was really mad at me…"

"Yes, and she was furious with me. Come on. She'll be happy to see you when she wakes up. You can have my chair."

Serena nodded, taking Chuck's arm and following him to Blair's room.

Blair was still sleeping peacefully when they entered her room, and Serena took the chair Chuck had promised her and he sat down on the floor next to her chair. "Now that we know she had surgery…do you still think we should hold off on calling Eleanor?" Serena asked.

"I've been thinking about that a lot, Serena. I still don't think we should call Eleanor, at least not yet. But you know who I think we _should _have called from the very beginning?" Chuck replied.

"Who?"

"I think we should call Harold, Serena." Chuck saw the puzzled expression on Serena's face. "Think about it, Serena. She loves her father more than anyone in the world, she'll listen to him more than she'll listen to anyone. More than me, and you know it."

Serena knew Chuck was right. "Make the call, Chuck."

"Stay with her. I'll be right outside," Chuck replied.

Stepping outside, Chuck searched his contacts for Harold Waldorf. Before hitting the call button, he took a deep breath. After this call, Blair could potentially hate him forever. _You are doing this for her._ No, this was the right thing to do. Blair needed help. She needed it desperately.

Harold answered on the fourth ring, clearly still half asleep. "Charles?"

_Oh fuck. Yeah, there's a time difference. _"Hello, Mr. Waldorf. I'm so sorry to bother you…at whatever hour it is in France right now. But you need to come home, now."

Harold immediately perked up. "Is it Blair? Is she alright?"

"Yes, it's Blair. You need to come home, _now_," Chuck stressed. "She's alright, right now."

"Right now, Charles?"

"Call me Chuck. And yes, right now. She needs you, right now."

"What aren't you telling me, _Chuck?_" asked Harold.

Chuck sighed into the phone. "She's in the hospital right now. I don't know why. I don't know what happened. She called me completely out of it and I called 911. Get on the next flight to the New York. It's bad."

There was a long pause before Harold answered. "I'll be there in a few hours, Chuck."

"Thank you, Mr. Waldorf."

"Chuck, call me Harold."

**Hey, you there. I see you lurking. Let me know if you love or hate. **


	6. Entropy

**Chapter 6 – Entropy**

**Yes, I changed the title of this story. It's based on a line a wrote in an upcoming chapter and it seemed to fit. Wine may have also been involved. Just so no one's confused (;**

Harold was at Lennox Hill just hours later, as promised. Reaching reception, he spoke, "Harold Waldorf, here for my daughter Blair Waldorf."

"Of course, Mr. Waldorf. Follow me." Cassidy knew enough by now to question anything involving Blair Waldorf. She led him down a corridor before opening the door. "I'll send a doctor to speak to you as soon as possible."

Harold entered the room and saw three sleeping figures: His daughter in the hospital bed, Serena in the chair next to the bed, and Chuck on the floor leaning against the frame daughter's hospital bed. Hearing Harold's footsteps, Chuck's head immediately up in attention. "Hello, Chuck."

Chuck nodded slowly. "Harold. Can we talk?"

Harold glanced at his daughter at his daughter on the bed. "I think I should be with Blair –"

"You should be," Chuck interrupted. "But we need to talk. She's asleep, and she's pretty drugged up, so she could be asleep for a while longer. This is important, Mr. – Harold."

Harold glanced at his daughter asleep in her hospital bed and then back at Chuck's dark, wild eyes. "Twenty minutes," he reasoned.

"I don't even need that. Outside? I could use some fresh air and maybe a cigarette…Do Parisians still smoke?" Chuck asked.

Harold pulled his jacket back to reveal a pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket. "I think some fresh air sounds wonderful, Chuck."

Harold followed Chuck outside and handed him a cigarette. Chuck pulled a lighter from the pocket his coat. His hands were shaking badly. Chuck didn't smoke much anymore, and the lighter he carried around in his pocket as a comfort barely worked. After a few tries to make the lighter spark, he felt the smoke fill his lungs, the dull buzz in his head from the nicotine calming him slightly. After a few puffs, Chuck spoke. "I know you must be wondering why I begged you to fly from France with zero notice."

"Very much, Chuck," replied Harold.

Chuck exhaled deeply. "I didn't know who else to call. She doesn't want anyone to know. I know and Serena knows."

"Know what?" Harold interrupted.

"Harold, Louis is a bad guy. Very bad. I don't know why Blair is in the hospital, really. But I know he had something to do with it." Chuck's face was dark as he spoke.

Harold narrowed his eyes at Chuck and studied him. "What do you mean, Chuck?"

"He hurts her, Harold. He hits her," Chuck answered, averting Harold's eyes.

"You mean...?"

Before Harold could finish, Chuck answered, "Yes. That's exactly what I mean." Chuck watched as Harold turned ashen, and then as his face flashed with rage.

"That bastard hits my daughter?" Harold seethed.

"Yes," Chuck spoke softly. "Harold, I love her and even I didn't know until a few days ago. She hid it so well. I want to kill him."

"Eleanor isn't here?" Harold suddenly asked.

Chuck shook his head. "Serena and I wondered whether we should or not…But you know how their relationship can be. We didn't think it would be a good idea. I should've called you as soon as we got her, but…well, I haven't really been thinking clearly," he replied, taking another long drag off his cigarette.

Harold nodded in understanding. In truth, from the moment Harold had laid eyes on Chuck, he had seen the worry and fear written all over his face. The younger man was ashen and clearly exhausted, dark circles hanging like purple half-moons beneath his bloodshot eyes. His face was tight, and his jock was locked in frustration, or maybe determination, Harold couldn't be sure. Yes, Harold Waldorf understood that Chuck Bass was a tad bit overwhelmed at the moment. He could also see that Chuck Bass was completely and unabashedly in love with his daughter. Putting out his cigarette, Harold clapped his hand to Chuck's shoulder. "Come on, Chuck. I want to talk to Blair's doctor, and I want to be there when she wakes up."

"She's going to be mad when she wakes up, Harold. Probably at you, but definitely at me."

"No more mad than we both are at this moment, I hazard to guess," Harold responded, throwing Chuck a small, sad smile.

Chuck mirrored Harold's facial expression back to the older man, and followed him back inside as Harold led the way back towards where Blair was sleeping peacefully. Stopping at the nurse's station, Harold told a nurse – no longer Cassidy – that he wanted to speak with his daughter's doctor immediately. The nurse nodded and picked up the phone to page Blair's doctor. "He'll meet you in the waiting room in 10 minutes," she told Harold after hanging up the phone.

Harold flashed his brilliant smile at the nurse and thanked her. "I'll wait for the doctor, Chuck. Go sit with Blair while I talk to him – I'll fill you in later," Harold added seeing the look that grazed Chuck's face.

Chuck sighed as he watched Harold walk back into the waiting room. _Just as well, she'll probably kick me out once she finds out her dad is here,_ he thought darkly. He made his way back to Blair's room, and quietly let himself inside, seeing that Blair and Serena were both still sleeping peacefully. He watched as Blair's chest rose slowly up and down in her sleep and he was gripped the sudden urge to climb into the bed with her and crush her to his chest and never let her go. He just wanted to hold her, to feel her against him again. The way it should be. The way it should have always been. Chuck continued to stand in the door of her room, content just to watch her, and as he saw Blair began to stir, he swore to himself that she had felt his eyes on hers, as her eyes opened slowly and immediately locked with his.

"Chuck?" Blair managed groggily.

He managed a smile for her. "Still here, B," he teased. It was killing him on the inside, but he knew he had to be strong for her.

"Thank you," she replied softly. "For everything."

Chuck winced. He knew she wouldn't be thanking him once she learned exactly what _everything _entailed. He willed himself not think about that right now and walked over to the side of the bed where Serena wasn't passed out. He kneeled down by her and gently kissed her forehead. "For you, anything."

Blair smiled softly, clearly exhausted.

He stared at her face for a long moment, willing himself to memorize every inch of her face, even if he did know it by heart by now. "Blair, I have to tell you something and I need you not to freak out, ok?" Chuck finally managed the words.

Blair's smile faded and was replaced with a look of raw fear. "What, Chuck? What did you do?" Her voice trembling as she spoke.

"I called Harold. He's talking to your doctor in the waiting room right now." Chuck closed his eyes and waited for her reaction.

Instead of the hysterics or the rage he expected, Blair simply asked, "Why?" Her voice was sad and small, like a lost little girl.

Chuck opened his eyes and met hers again. "Because you're in the hospital and he's your father and he loves you."

"That's the only reason?" she asked in the same voice.

"No, it's not. But it is the one that is the most fundamentally important."

"Will you go get him for me?"

Chuck smiled at her before rising and planting a soft kiss on her cheek. "You got it, Waldorf."

Harold had just finished speaking with the doctor when Chuck saw him from the hall, and as the doctor walked away, Chuck saw his shoulders sag, and his head into hands. Harold Waldorf was clearly a man defeated. "Harold?" Chuck asked softly, coming closer to the older man.

Startled, Harold looked up at Chuck. "Chuck, I didn't see you there," he said in a daze.

"What did the doctor say?"

"One fractured rib, one broken. The broken one punctured her spleen somehow. She was bleeding heavily internally so they had to remove her spleen." Harold's voice shaking as he spoke.

Chuck felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. He couldn't breathe and the nerve endings in his body were screaming in pain as if he were drowning. His head and his heart were pounding in rhythm, and he swore he could feel his heart explode inside his chest and the sound ricocheted in his head. "She's awake, Harold. She wants to see you," Chuck managed gruffly.

Harold looked up, surprised. "You're not coming?"

He couldn't. Not right now. He was so angry, angrier than he had ever been. He was angry at himself, at Louis, hell, he was even angry at Blair even though he knew in his gut that it wasn't her fault. He was so angry and there was no way he could hide, save all from Blair. No matter how hard he could try to mask it, that girl could read him like an open book. "Need a minute," Chuck managed to spit out.

Xoxo.

Blair had expected to be angry when Chuck told her he had called her father. As soon as the words had left his lips, she had waited for inevitable flood of rage. It never came. What came instead was the utter feeling of helplessness, and she just wanted her daddy. So she had relented. When her father entered the room, he flashed her a smile and Blair felt herself dissolve into tears. "Daddy," she sobbed.

"Hey, Blair Bear." Turning to Serena who was just pulling herself out of sleep, Harold spoke, "Serena, do you think we could have a minute?"

"Of course, Mr. Waldorf," she mumbled before darting out the door.

She continued to sob and Harold went to take the Serena's abandoned seat. "I just spoke with the doctor, Blair Bear, what happened?" he asked her gently.

A strangled sob ripped itself from her throat. "I don't know, Daddy. It's all a blur."

"Blair Bear, you have broken ribs and they had to removed your spleen because you were bleeding internally. What is going on?"

Blair just looked at her father helplessly before shrugging, wiping her tears away. "I fell down the stairs. My side hurt but I just ignored it," she lied.

"Blair, don't lie to me. I've talked to Chuck. He begged me to get on a plane in the middle of the night because you were in the hospital, and I know it's not because you fell down some stairs."

"Daddy, please don't," she pleaded. "I don't want to talk about it. Where is Chuck?" she asked, realizing he wasn't in the room with her father. _He left, _the thought filled her with dread.

Harold honored Blair's request for the moment. "I told him what the doctor said. I think he needed a breather."

"Is he coming back?" Blair asked meekly.

"I don't think anything would keep him away, Blair Bear. Not for long," Harold answered honestly. "Now tell me what is going on."

Blair could feel the tears well up in her eyes once more, but they fell slowly, a controlled drip compared to the previous waterfall of pent-up emotion. "I'm so ashamed, Daddy," was all she could manage.

"So he did do this to you?" Harold already knew the answer, but he needed to hear her say it, needed her to acknowledge it.

"Yes," she whispered. _Not entirely, but yes, _she whispered to herself.

Harold exhaled deeply. "For once, Blair, I am pulling the father card. I never have, even on occasions when I should have, but for once I am using it. Give me your ring," Harold said motioning to her left hand. "This - whatever it is with Louis, is over. Give me your ring and I'm telling him that it's over. I forbid you to see him again." Harold's voice was soft, but firm. Not room for disagreement or argument. Blair had never seen her father like that before.

"Daddy—"

Harold held up a hand to his daughter. "No. Ring. This is done."

Blair nodded and pulled the gargantuan canary diamond ring from her finger and silently gave it to her father. Her hand suddenly felt much lighter, and truthfully, she had never cared for the ring much to begin with – she thought it garish. "I'm sorry, daddy," she whispered.

Harold's face softened at her words. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Blair Bear. None," he said, his hands motioning around the hospital room, "of this is your fault. None of it."

Blair nodded solemnly.

"I love you, Blair. And I would be beside myself if I ever lost you," Harold said, taking his daughter's hand.

"I love you, too, Daddy."

"Now, I think it's time for you to get some rest, and I have an errand to run. I will be back later, I promise," Harold spoke, standing.

Blair nodded at her father, she really was exhausted. "Daddy, can you do something for me before you leave?"

"Anything, Blair Bear."

"Find Chuck?"

Harold smiled at his daughter and acquiesced. He had a feeling he knew exactly where Chuck would be.

Making his way back to the spot he and Chuck had been less than an hour ago, Harold knew he was right. He found the young man, furiously smoking a cigarette, his eyes glinting black like burning cobalt and he stared out at the world in front of him, his body tense as if ready to attack an unseen prey. If Harold hadn't known the man, he would've been afraid of him. "Chuck."

Chuck's head snapped to Harold's, his steely eyes meeting the older man's. He took another drag of his cigarette before answering. "Bummed this off an old man with an oxygen tank, if you can believe that," he said, motioning to the cigarette, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"Chuck," Harold said again lowly, hoping to snap the younger man back to reality. "Blair's asking for you. She asked me to find you."

Chuck blinked and Harold saw some of the steely glint in his eyes soften. "I just needed to breath. I feel like I'm suffocating. I hate hospitals to begin with," Chuck admitted.

"I told her as much. At least the needing to breathe part. I have an important errand to run, and I promised I'd find you," Harold answered.

"What kind of errand?" Chuck asked, angered. Blair was in the hospital and Harold had an errand to run? _You fucking prick._

Harold pulled Blair's engagement ring from the pocket of his peacoat. "I owe someone a visit. He no longer has my blessing," he answered, pointedly.

Chuck was stunned. _Well damn, Harold. Way to man up, finally. _"I'll be up in a few minutes. If I was going to run away, I already would have."

Harold put a hand on Chuck's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze before starting to walk away.

"Oh, and Harold," Chuck called out. "Give him hell for me."

Harold just smirked back at Chuck before getting into a waiting town car.

Xoxo.

Half an hour and three more bummed cigarettes later and Chuck finally felt calm enough to go back to Blair. Entering her room, he saw that she wasn't asleep, instead she was sitting up slightly in bed, seemingly waiting for him. "I didn't think you were coming back," she simply stated.

"I was always coming back." Chuck walked to the side of her bed and sat down on its edge as he spoke.

"What took you so long?" There it was again – that lost voice that tugged at his heart.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Chuck exhaled. "After Harold told me what happened…what was wrong. I just needed to get out. I needed to breathe. I needed to think. But I was always coming back, Blair."

"So you know?" she asked quietly, tears shining in her eyes.

"Yes, Blair."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"What the doctor said…It's not everything that happened."

Chuck's gaze snapped to meet hers in questioning.

"I…I didn't know my ribs were broken. I ignored the pain in my side. And then…I made myself sick, Chuck. As soon as I did it was like something was being ripped open inside of me. I've never been in that much pain before. I knew something was wrong. That's when I called you. Chuck," she choked out, "I would've been fine if I hadn't made myself sick."

"You still think this is your fault, Blair?" he asked her, seriously.

"It is—if I hadn't made myself sick—"

"Blair, if he hadn't broken your goddamn ribs, one wouldn't have punctured your spleen when you did make yourself sick," he answered angrily. "Stop trying to make this your fault, Blair. Because anyway you spin it isn't," he added, softer. "Stop trying to make yourself the bad guy in this, because it isn't true."

His eyes met hers and she finally saw how exhausted Chuck was, how distraught he was. Blair had been so caught up in her own problems and pain she had refused to see his pain. "Chuck," she whispered. "I'm sorry." She reached a hand out and beckoned for him to come closer.

He obliged and she placed a hand on his face. His face was rough, overgrown with stubble. She felt his jaw soften in her hand and stroked his stubbled cheek with fingertips. She heard him sigh and he dropped his head lower to nuzzle himself against her hand. "You look like shit, Bass," she whispered, concern filling her voice.

"I feel like shit," he whispered back, moving his face away from her fingertips so he could kiss them lightly.

"You need a shower, and sleep."

"You're the one lying in a hospital bed and you're concerned about me?" he chuckled softly.

"Yes," she continued in a whisper. "I looked at you just now…and you're so tired and sad, Chuck. When was the last time you slept? The last time you ate?"

"I'm tired and sad because you're in the hospital, Waldorf. I'm not exactly thrilled about your broken ribs. And that…I don't actually know. I think I fell asleep for a moment right before Harold got here. And food…I really don't remember."

"You should go home and take a shower, get some food, get some sleep."

"I'm not leaving, Waldorf. You'll have to have security escort me out. But you know I'd just donate a new wing and they'd let me come back," he said with a smirk.

Blair rolled her eyes. "I'm not calling security, Bass. But go downstairs and get a sandwich or something and come back and try and get some sleep? You need to eat and you need to sleep, please?"

"Well since you said please…" Chuck realized he really did need to eat. He couldn't remember the last meal he had that wasn't scotch and eventually he would hit a breaking point without food. "I'll be back in 10, Waldorf," he said as he stood and began to walk out of her room.

"Chuck?

He heard the fear in her voice and he turned around quickly to face her. "Baby?"

"Does…does Louis know I'm here?"

Chuck's face darkened. "If he does, it's not because I told him."

Relief flashed across Blair's face and she nodded. "Hurry back, Bass," she said with a tense smile.

The fear in her voice, the relief he saw on her face. She was scared. She didn't want to be alone. Chuck walked back towards her. "Hey, I think I have a better idea."

The pained look on Blair's face immediately vanished. "Yes?"

"Serena's around here somewhere. I'll text her, have her go get all of us some food. I'm sure hospital food isn't up to your standards. And I know Serena would love to see you – awake. What are you in the mood for?"

Blair smiled. A real smile, it actually hurt a little bit. "Lox and cream cheese," she answered immediately, then flushed. _Pick something more fattening why don't you._

Chuck saw the look flash across her face. "Hey, look at me," he said softly, taking her chin between his thumb and forefingers. His dark eyes glared into her soft brown ones. "Whatever you're telling yourself right now, stop. You're beautiful. And you want lox and cream cheese…on an everything bagel, am I right? And that's what you're getting." Chuck smiled at her.

Blair smiled back, halfheartedly.

"Baby," he said softly, questioningly.

Her heart swelled in response, and suddenly she did feel beautiful. She smiled back at him for real. "Yes, an everything bagel."

His fears quelled for the moment, he pulled out his phone and texted Serena. _S, where are you? B's up and hungry. Get lunch for the three of us? I'll owe you one, sis._

_Fine. What do you want?_

_She wants lox and cream cheese on an everything bagel. Surprise me. And whatever you want, my treat._

_I'm_ _getting the most expensive thing on the menu._

_I would expect nothing less, sis. _Chuck smirked. Closing his phone, he looked back to Blair, who looked actually happy for the first time in a long time. His heart swelled at the thought.

Xoxo.

Harold was in the elevator to the penthouse he used to live in with his ex-wife and daughter, waiting for the floor for the penthouse to light up. He was anxious – he didn't know what exactly what he was about to find, but he wanted this over with now. Finally, the floor for the penthouse lit up and he slipped his well-worn keycard into the slot of the elevator. The light went from red to green and the elevator door slid open. Harold stepped out and it was like stepping back in time – almost nothing had changed. This had been his home once, he had been happy here. He remembered the holidays – Thanksgiving and Christmas with Blair and Eleanor. Blair's birthday parties. Baking with Blair, discussing fabric swatches with Eleanor – _He was gay after all_, he thought. Honestly, having such an opinion on fabric swatches maybe should've tipped him off long before Roman.

But now that home he built with Eleanor and Blair was different. This place was somewhere his beloved daughter got hurt – got her _ribs broken. _Where was Dorota? Did she not announce visitors anymore? Harold considered himself an easygoing man, but right now he didn't feel as such. "Louis!?" he yelled.

Silence.

"Louis _fucking_ Grimaldi!?"

Harold heard a door open and shut, and then hurried footsteps before he saw Louis at the top of the steps, hurriedly tucking in his shirt. "Mr. Waldorf! Bonjour!"

"Save it, Louis," Harold seethed. "I don't care what or who you were doing, but you will no longer be doing it in my house." He slammed Louis' gaudy engagement ring on the table in the entryway. You and my daughter are over. And you need to get out of my house, tonight."

Louis blanched at Harold's threat. "What did Blair tell you? I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."

"No misunderstanding, Louis."

"Did you talk to Chuck? What did he tell you? I can assure you they were all lies - he is so very jealous."

"Chuck told me nothing I couldn't discern with my own eyes. My daughter could have died because of you. Stay away from her, forever. Your engagement is over. And you need to be out of this house in 24 hours. This is my daughter's home, not yours. So leave, before I make you," Harold warned. "And take your gaudy ring back to Monaco with you when you go." Harold turned on his heel and stepped back into the elevator.

Xoxo.

Chuck, Blair and Serena were having a picnic of sorts – the type of picnic that was had inside of a hospital room. Blair in the bed with her lox and cream cheese, Serena had reclaimed the chair and was eating something that involved lobster – the most expensive thing on the menu, of course – and Chuck was content with a steak and cheese sandwich.

Things almost felt normal for the first time in a long time.

Serena was the first to speak, "It's the non-judging Breakfast Club back together again, minus Nate…"

Chuck looked to Blair, who was already looking at him. She sighed. "Tomorrow? Call him tomorrow? I don't want to deal with anything else today," she said, glaring at Chuck pointedly.

"Still not sorry, Waldorf, you can glare all you want," he said in response to her gaze. Her face softened slightly at his response and she grinned at him._ Fuck, I love you_, he thought.

His phone vibrated in his pocket at that exact moment. _Louis Grimaldi calling. _Chuck swallowed hard. He held up his hand in apology to Blair and Serena before he quickly left the room. "Why are you calling me, Louis?" he answered.

"What did you do?" Louis replied curtly.

"What did _I _do?"

"Yes, what did you do?" Louis replied heatedly.

"Well, should we start with your fiancée…well ex-fiancée, almost dying from internal bleeding from the _broken ribs_ you gave her? Or would you like to start somewhere else?" Chuck snarled into his phone.

"Where is she?" Louis demanded. "Why was I not informed? I am her fiancée."

"_Ex-_fiancee, Louis. I believe Harold took care of that, if I am not mistaken. And she's safe, away from you."

"I demand to see her – you've been filling her head with lies."

"Stop with the melodramatic act, Louis. Frankly, it's boring me to tears. I've filled her head with _nothing, _and you will be coming nowhere near her, I thought that I had made that crystal fucking clear."

"I will find her, you know. And when I do—"

"Ah, yes. I'm sure you will. But I think you're forgetting something, _Louis,_" Chuck interrupted, spitting the other man's name. You forget that I know about your affair. Oh, and I have pictures, so think carefully before you speak and regret it. Stay away from Blair, and the pictures I have never go public. Deal?" Louis had a title, a crown to think about. Exposing his affair while his fiancée was in the hospital would be detrimental to his image, and Chuck knew it.

"You're lying about the pictures," Louis seethed in response.

"I'll text them to you right now," Chuck responded easily. "I am a lot of things, Louis. Stupid is not one of them. I'm a business man and I know that insurance is crucial. Here." Chuck pulled his phone away from his ear and texted Louis the pictures, both the ones he had taken personally as well as the ones Andrew Tyler had sent him. "Take a peek at your phone, and you'll see that I not, in fact, lying." Chuck heard Louis audibly gape on the other end of the phone. "Shut your mouth, Louis. You look like a trout with your mouth hanging open."

"How—"

"I told you, Louis. I'm Chuck Bass." With that, Chuck ended the call.

Chuck exhaled slowly. He knew he had sounded cool and confident on the phone, but inside flames of anxiety were starting to burn his belly. Of course Louis would _eventually _wonder where his fiancée – _ex-fiancee_ – was, but Chuck had avoided that thought at all costs. He just hoped that the damaging photos of Louis would be able to buy him a little bit of time. Chuck and Louis were almost nothing alike, but they did share a few of the same qualities. Both were jealous and obsessive, and both were extremely used to getting what they wanted. Louis obviously still thought that Blair belonged to him, like she was chattel and they were still in the Dark Ages, and at some point, Chuck knew that Louis would react and make a move for Blair. Chuck and Louis were playing a very dangerous game of Chess in order to take their queen, but Chuck had always been an excellent chess player.

Bringing himself out of his thoughts, Chuck returned to Blair. Entering the room, he noticed her regarding him with narrowed eyes. "See something you like, Waldorf?" he asked her, trying to throw her off his trail.

She ignored him. "Who was on the phone, Chuck?"

"Just Bass Industries business, Blair," he lied.

Blair's eyes narrowed further. "You're doing that thing where your eyes don't match your mouth."

"No, that's you, Blair," Chuck returned.

Serena watched the banter of her friends, eyes wide, clearly lost as to what was happening.

Blair's eyes widened with a realization.

_Why do you have to be so goddamn smart,_ Chuck thought, partially annoy, but mostly impressed.

"It was him, wasn't it?" she asked softly, her eyes searching his.

"You'll have to be more specific, Blair," drawled Chuck, realizing there was no way he could lie his way out of it now. Blair read him like a book.

"Stop with the games, Chuck. Stop lying. I know who you were talking to," Blair returned heatedly, she could feel the anger rising in her gut.

Serena eyes went from Chuck to Blair and then back to Chuck. "Guys…someone want to tell me what exactly is going on? Because I'm lost."

"Typical," Chuck said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, nothing Serena. Chuck was talking to Louis on the phone just now, and now he's just lying about it," Blair answered her friend, still holding Chuck's gaze firm, her eyes bright with anger.

Serena, still confused spoke again. "Louis? You talked to Louis, Chuck?"

Chuck knew he was caught, like a fish in a barrel. _A Bass in a barrel._ He let out a sigh, before he spoke, mostly to Blair, "Yes, Louis called me. I just…I didn't want to worry you."

The anger in Blair's eyes stilled a bit. "What did he want, Bass? And don't lie to me," she spoke lowly.

"He wanted to know where you were."

"Did you tell him?"

Chuck gave Blair a pointed look.

She blinked at him, her eyes finally his. "Right. So what now? He'll find me, you know, even though you didn't tell him."

Chuck smirked at her. "I wouldn't worry about that just yet, Waldorf. I managed to distract him a bit."

Blair narrowed her eyes at him once more. "How, Bass?"

"Just a bit of blackmail, of course."

At his words, Blair returned Chuck's smirk.

Serena watched wearily as something passed between her two friends. "Sometimes I just don't understand you guys," she let out with an exasperated sigh.

Chuck and Blair answered in unison, "We know, Serena."

**Reviews, please? I see how many people are viewing this story and y'all making me sad. I'm still having fun writing this so tell me you love it or hate it (:**


	7. Oblivion

**Chapter 7 – Oblivion**

**Note – In my story, Chuck and Nate don't live together. I find Nate boring and have a hard time writing him - which I would have to do if they lived together. SO. They don't live together because I say so. There will be some Chuck/Nate bromance, though.**

Louis wasn't aware of how much time had passed as he stood in Blair's bedroom, staring at the photos of himself and Estee that Chuck had sent him, mouth still ajar. How had everything fallen apart so quickly, he wondered. A day earlier, he had a fiancée and his mistress, a place to live. Now, he had no fiancée, had been ordered to leave the penthouse by Harold Waldorf himself, and Blair was in the hospital with broken ribs. Why was she being so dramatic anyways? Broken ribs weren't even that serious. Louis had broken a rib as a teenager after taking a tumble from one of his thoroughbreds. It had been painful, sure, but not a big deal.

Truthfully, Louis didn't even really care about the specifics of why Blair was in the hospital, he just knew he had to find her – he needed to clean up this mess that she had single-handedly created. There was, however, the small problem that he was currently still holding in his hands: Chuck Bass' blackmail.

At the beginning of their relationship, Blair warned that Louis that Chuck Bass was the most manipulative person she knew – someone who would do anything to get what he wanted, and usually won whatever game he played. Louis had laughed at the time, but reassessing himself in his currently situation, Louis realized that Blair had not exaggerated one bit when it came to the manipulations of Chuck Bass, and here he was, seemingly at the losing end of the game.

Chuck Bass, however, had underestimated one very important thing. _Everyone in the royal family has an affair. It's practically a birthright._ Louis smirked at this realization. Louis' feelings for Blair had changed the night he found out Blair had cheated on him. She had shown up to the gala with Chuck, hours late, and he, ever the gentleman, had waited for her patiently. He had believed Chuck when he said he had given Blair his blessing, and Louis was more than happy to step out publically with the girl he had convinced himself he was in love with. He knew that Chuck and Blair had a complicated history, and he understood that. He believed her, and he trusted her. Hours later, while they laid in bed, Louis began to piece together the truth of what had actually transpired that night. Blair wouldn't let him touch her, feigning exhaustion. But he could feel something crackling in the air, unseen. _Electricity._ It was then that Louis had knew she was lying about something, he just couldn't put his finger on what. Unable to fall asleep, he had gotten up to get a glass of water, and it was then he spotted her discarded La Perlas. They were soaking wet from the shimmering mixture of body fluids. It was then that Louis knew that she had fucked Chuck Bass.

The next day was the first day he hit Blair Waldorf.

Blair had been unfaithful to Louis first, and as far as Louis was concerned, Chuck Bass did not have a leg to stand on. Louis picked up his phone to call his personal assistant. "Estee, call every hospital in the tri-state area. I need you to find Blair Waldorf, immediately."

Louis had to find her, and when he did, Blair Waldorf was in for it.

Xoxo.

"You really don't mind if I go home and rest, B?" Serena asked her best friend imploringly.

"No, S. You _all _need to go home and get some rest," Blair looked pointedly at Chuck. "I'm fine. I will be fine by myself, I don't need you both acting like my personal guard dogs. Besides, Daddy's hotel is right down the street if I need anything. Now go home and get some sleep - _both _of you."

"I'd give you a hug, B, but I'm pretty sure that would hurt."

Blair dismissed Serena with a wave of her hand. "Goodbye, S."

"Bye, B," replied Serena, blowing her a kiss instead.

Chuck made absolutely no movement to leave.

"Go home, Chuck," she said in a low voice. "I know you still haven't slept."

Chuck looked to Blair with a small smile. "You know me so well, Waldorf." He paused, looking down at the floor briefly before meeting her eyes. "You really want me to leave?"

"It's not really a matter of want, Bass. It's a matter of need. I don't want you dropping dead on me from sleep deprivation," she reasoned.

Blair had a point and Chuck knew it. "Fine. I'll go home. I'll shower. I'll _try _to take a nap. But then I'm coming right back, deal?"

She smiled at him. "Stop worrying so much, Chuck. I'm not going to croak before you get back, you know. You, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about." Blair watched Chuck for a moment, she saw the fear in his eyes, the fear he could normally hide, but she could tell in his sleepless state that he was struggling. She saw the way he nervously wrung his hands. "I know why you don't want to leave," she said softly.

Chuck stilled his hands and looked up to her. "Do you?"

"You can't protect me 24/7, Chuck."

"I want to," he replied quietly.

She smiled and took his hand in hers. "I know that. But it's humanly impossible. You're cracking right in front me, Bass. Stop killing yourself and go home. Just for a little bit. I'm not going anywhere," Blair promised.

"I'm going, ok?" he said standing to leave, but made no movement towards the door.

"Doesn't look like it to me, Bass," Blair said shortly.

"Fine. Fine," he relented, bending down to place a kiss on her cheek. "If you need anything. And I mean _anything. _Text me, call me. I'll come back, ok?" he said softly.

"I already knew that, Chuck," she responded. "Now go home."

Once Chuck left, Blair realized how completely alone she felt. In truth, she hadn't sent them both home simply because she thought they both needed to sleep. Well, in Chuck's case, at least, it was beyond true. She needed to think. Chuck and Serena had tried and successfully distracted her from the mess that was currently her life. When Chuck held her hand, or went toe-to-toe with her, or when Serena laughed, or said something silly - _stupid_, it was easy to pretend that she wasn't sitting in a hospital bed, broken and missing an organ. It was in the silence, when Serena was passed out or Chuck was lost in his own head, that the reality of where she really was came crashing down around her. And right as she was starting to get her thoughts together, the silence was broken.

She needed to be alone and she needed to think. Chuck had been right when he said that she didn't want to face reality. Instead, reality came to face her – Reality was forcing her to make a choice. While Harold had taken her engagement ring, she didn't know if she and Louis were truly over. Harold hadn't even asked her what she wanted, he had simply demanded. Blair understood Harold's reasoning, but she wanted to dictate her own life. She was sick of everyone telling her what to do and being expected just to follow

But Chuck had been right – she needed to face reality. So she didn't try to lie to herself, she didn't push it down, for once. _I, Blair Cornelia Waldorf, am in a hospital bed right now because the man I'm engaged to broke my ribs. I made myself sick and punctured my spleen. I had an organ removed from my body because of said broken rib. If I hadn't called Chuck, I would have most likely died from internal bleeding. _At her last thought, she felt herself tremble. She had told Chuck she was afraid Louis would kill her. And he very nearly had. _This won't stop,_ she thought. _This won't be the last time in the hospital. Chuck can't save you every single time. _

_Chuck. _The realization hit her like a train, like being punched in the face. His face, his dark eyes, the dark circles, the tight jaw, the torment evident on every plane of his face. _You can't do this to Chuck. _His words from the other night rang in her ears, _"If not for you, then for me."_ Raw, aching, pleading. She couldn't go back to Louis, not because of the abuse, she knew, because she had briefly considered running back to her fiancée like a wounded animal even in the face of a hospital stay. She couldn't go back because she never again wanted to see the look on Chuck Bass' face that had resided there since the night he had found out Louis hurt her.

She was resolute in her decision. She was absolutely sure. She pulled out the phone she had made her father buy for her – hers apparently lost - and texted him quickly, _For you._

"A penny for your thoughts, darling?"

Blair looked up, not entirely surprised at who she saw.

Xoxo.

Chuck hadn't wanted to leave Blair. In fact, every nerve ending in his body had begged him to stay. But she had a point, and the concern he saw evident on her face made him give in. If it would make her happy, he would do it. He would shower, he would try to sleep. For her, he would at least try.

Stepping out of the shower, he had to admit he felt a bit better. If not rejuvenated, then on the path towards it. A towel wrapped around his waist, he walked into the living room of his sweat as he shook the drops of water from his hair with another towel. He poured himself two fingers of scotch and took a long gulp, savoring the burn. He wanted to stay at least somewhat sober, but he knew there was no way he'd be able to sleep a wink without some alcohol.

Chuck knew he was exhausted. He could feel it in every muscle of his body, he could feel it in his head, his brain moving sluggishly. But still, he felt wired. Like he was ready to pounce at any moment. He was on high alert and he wasn't even sure why. Exhaustion and tension, juxtaposed within him.

_Something's wrong_, the thought flashed through and he winced. _What the fuck? You really do need to get some sleep, Bass,_" he chided himself, but he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that had currently settled within him.

As he tried to gather his wits, he heard his phone chirp from where it laid on the coffee table. _Blair Waldorf. _He felt the panic rise build in his gut, and immediately opened it. The text simply read, _For you. _Chuck furrowed his brow, unsure of what the text meant. Goddamn his brain, lack of sleep really was fucking with him. He knew there was significance to the text, there had to be. Despite his abysmal grades throughout school, Chuck actually had a photographic memory. Only a few people were aware of it, Blair Waldorf being one of them. He remembered everything, and everyone. He often pretended he didn't – But simple truth was, Chuck Bass remembered everything, down to the last little detail, save for the nights he blacked out. And well, this, apparently. _Dammit._

The panicked feeling in his gut kept growing and he couldn't ignore it. He said he'd _try _to sleep, not that he actually would. He had to go to her now. The feeling in his gut was unfamiliar and unwelcome, and he just had to see her, make sure she was alright. Dressing quickly, Chuck rushed from his suite and back towards Blair. She could be mad if she wanted to be.

Xoxo.

"Louis," Blair replied calmly. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you, darling. Heard you were in the hospital," Louis replied, moving closer to Blair.

The memory washed over her in an instant: _I won't let her be right about me. I will not be weak anymore. _

"You had something to do with that, Louis, did you not?" she spat.

Louis shrugged. "It's just a broken rib, Blair. No need for the melodrama."

"I almost _DIED!_" She seethed. "If not for Chuck—"

Louis rushed to her side and took a handful of her curls in his hands and pulled forcefully. "Don't you ever say his name again," he whispered dangerously.

"Get your hands off of me, Louis," she replied, coldly.

Louis didn't listen, instead tightening his hold. She winced and he smiled. "You've created quite a mess for me, darling."

"You made your own bed, now lie in it," she seethed. A hand was around her throat in an instant, squeezing, tightening. Blair felt the shiver run down her spine. _I'm afraid he's going to kill me, Chuck. _Here it was, here was the moment.

_You don't get nearly enough credit for your wit._

_Are you sure?_

_We're inevitable, Waldorf._

_I love you, too. _

_I'm not Chuck Bass without you._

The lack of oxygen had clearly gone to her head, because she could see him clear as day in front of her. She wanted so badly to reach out for him, feel his fingers against hers, one more time, but the dark spots in her vision were clouding her vision, she saw nothing else, could feel nothing. She just saw Chuck Bass.

Suddenly she could breathe. Air rushed into her lungs and she coughed and sputtered, trying to normalize her breathing. She looked up and realized he wasn't a mirage. He was there, for real. Blair watched as Chuck slammed Louis' body against a wall and punched squarely against the face. "You _fucking BASTARD." _

Chuck got in two more hits before hospital security barged in and pulled Chuck away from Louis. Two men held Chuck's hands behind his back as a nurse rushed in to check Louis and Blair realized what was happening.

"No," Blair spoke hoarsely. Her throat ached, and the words stung coming out of her mouth. She caught Chuck's eyes and they were wild, fierce, like a rabid animal.

"Miss, it's alright. We'll take care of it."

"No," she spoke again, her voice slightly clearer. "Let him go," she said, motioning to Chuck's restrained hands. "He was protecting me. That_ scum_ on the floor tried to strangle me to death. He's the one who needs to be arrested," she spoke forcefully. "And yes, Louis, I am pressing charges. I have a witness, this time." Blair motioned to Chuck, whose arms were still restrained. "Let him go!" Blair screamed, before breaking into a fit of coughing.

The security guards dropped Chuck's arms at her order, obviously confused. Chuck was immediately at her side. "Are you ok?" he whispered, a warm hand laid gently across her face, his eyes still wild, bright.

As her coughing subsided, she felt tears stream down her face of their own volition. She nodded despite them, and felt the pad of Chuck's thumb wipe them away.

Minutes went by without either of them speaking, before Chuck broke the silence. "There's a cop here, Blair," he whispered in her ear. "Do you want to talk to him? Or do you want me to pay him off?" Chuck placed a gentle kiss on the hairline near her ear.

Blair sniffled and tried the best to pull herself together. "I want to talk to them," she answered, weakly.

"You sure?" he whispered back.

"I will not be weak anymore," she responded.

"She's all yours," Chuck spoke, moving away from her.

Blair began to panic. He was leaving, he was moving towards the door. Then she saw Chuck take the seat right near the door, and her fears quelled. Chuck's eyes stared back at her and she read the message he was sending her immediately: _I am not leaving you. _

"Miss Waldorf?"

The voice jolted Blair away from Chuck and his gaze. "Y-yes?"

"Can you tell me what happened tonight?"

She met Chuck's eyes, he was studying her. She immediately realized why – he was waiting for her to lie and protect Louis. "My ex-fiancée showed up, unannounced. We got into a fight, and I don't know…He strangled me. Chuck," she motioned to Chuck, "he saved me."

"Has your fiancée—"

Chuck interrupted, "Ex."

The cop glared at Chuck. "Has your _ex-fiancée_ ever hurt you before?" he asked, turning his attention back to Blair.

Blair bit her lip. "Many times. I have a broken rib right now, and another one is fractured. Because of him," she said quietly.

"Do you want to press charges?"

Blair didn't even think before responding, "Yes."

Satisfied, the cop thanked her and left the room. Then it was just her and Chuck. She looked up and met his eyes – still bright and fixed on her. "Chuck," she said softly, she could feel the tears building.

In an instant, he was back at her side, kneeling against her bed. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her.

"Why?"

He ran his fingers across her throat, where bruises were starting to develop. "For this," she whispered.

"You didn't do this, Chuck."

"I know that…But I left you. I knew I shouldn't. Even when I got home I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I shouldn't have left."

"I made you leave, Chuck."

"And I should have stayed."

"Stay now," she replied.

"I plan on it."

Blair patted the small space on her bed. "Come here."

Chuck climbed onto the bed slowly, and laid next to her. He wanted to hold her, tightly. But he knew that would hurt her. "I don't want to hurt you," his whispered.

"Lay on your back." As he did so she sidled up next to him, laying her head next to his neck. "I can only sleep on my back right now, it's pure torture." She gently kissed his pulse point and laced her fingers with his.

"Blair?" he asked, uncertain.

"Yes?"

"Your text earlier…What did it mean?" he asked quietly.

"You don't remember?"

"I really don't," he answered. "I haven't slept in days….my brain is a bit sluggish. I know it means something, but I don't know what. I should remember," he responded apologetically.

"Relax, Chuck," she kissed his pulse point again. "The other day. Before all of _this. _You begged me to leave him. If not for myself, then for you."

Chuck turned to look at her, his dark eyes piercing. "For me?"

"Well, no. Not _just_ for you. But you were the ultimate deciding factor."

"Explain," he whispered.

"You were right. I didn't want to face reality. Being in the hospital makes that kind of difficult, to be honest. I realized that this wouldn't be the only time I'd be here if I stayed with him. I know Daddy ended things _for me_. But—"

"You needed to make that decision for yourself," Chuck offered.

Blair nodded, continuing, "It was the look on your face, Chuck," she said softly.

"What?"

"The look you've had your face since you found out about Louis…I probably would've denied everything, pretended nothing had even happened. But the look on your face, Chuck. I couldn't – I _can't _stand it."

"What look?" he asked her.

"I can't describe it. It's the look of a man completely falling apart while pretending he's strong. It's the look of a man who hasn't sleep in many days…" Blair rested her hand on his cheek. "It's the look of a man who's being tortured to death, slowly. And that look was because of me, I know it was."

Chuck kissed her hand softly. "Blair -"

"Let me finish. I can't stand that look on your face anymore. It hurts. I didn't decide to leave him for you. I decided to leave him for _me. _But also _because_ of you," she finished softly.

Chuck let out the breath he was holding. He moved to kiss her forehead, where he lingered for a moment, pensive. Then he moved his face away from hers briefly, before using his nose to gently nudge her face to tilt up towards his. He kissed her, gently, softly. He didn't need anything else, just her lips on his. It was a chaste kiss as far as Chuck Bass was concerned, but it was more than enough for him. He rested his forehead against hers, licking his lips so he could memorize the taste of her lips.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"You saved me. I'd be dead without you…"

He couldn't talk about it, he couldn't think about the possibility, so he kissed her again, to quiet her, to feel her against him again. He had to know she was still alive, that she was still next to him. "I love you," he murmured against her lips.

"I love you, too, Chuck," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

They were quiet for the remainder of the night, exchanging a soft kiss every so often. Eventually Blair saw Chuck drift off into sleep for the first time in many days. She smiled as his face relaxed and he began to snore softly next her. She placed her hand on his chest softly. At the beat of his heart, she smiled and closed her own eyes.

Xoxo.

When he woke up he didn't know where he was. Stark white walls, stark white ceilings, incessant beeping. _Jesus, how much did I drink last night?_ It was then that he felt the slim fingers interlaced with his own, and it all rushed back to him. He turned to face her and planted a kiss in her curls.

"You finally slept," she whispered.

"I woke you up, I'm sorry," he murmured.

"It's 3 in the afternoon, Bass. I've been awake for hours," Blair replied.

"You should've woken me up."

Blair shook her head. "Absolutely not."

"Your concern is adorable, Waldorf," he smirked, bringing her intertwined hand to his lips and kissing the top of her hand.

Blair didn't pull away, but simply rolled her eyes at him. "You ready to break me from this joint, Bass?"

Chuck stilled. "Is that a good idea?"

"I'm ready to go home. I'm not going to break, Bass."

"I know that, Blair. You're a force of nature. Where's home?" he asked quietly, meeting her eyes.

She flinched. "I'm not in the mood for your games."

Chuck squeezed her hand, and ran gentle circles over her thumb. "I'm not playing games, Blair. I'm asking you an actual question," he replied gently.

Blair regarded him for a moment before deciding he was being earnest. "I still don't really know."

"Maybe it's time you found a new one," he suggested.

Blair regarded him suspiciously.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but Eleanor's penthouse clearly doesn't feel like your home anymore. Maybe you should find a new home."

"Like where? Your suite?" she asked sardonically.

Chuck smirked. "That, I would not mind. You said it, not me. And if you want to move into my suite, I have zero objections. But that's not exactly what I was proposing."

Blair swallowed the lump in her throat. _Of course he's not asking you to move in with him, you idiot._

"Blair? Where'd you go?" he asked, bring her back out of her thoughts.

"Sorry, I'm here." She smiled brightly.

Chuck, of course, saw right through her change in expression. But for once, he wasn't sure what she was thinking. "Come stay with me, while you look for an apartment," he offered.

"I couldn't," she answered, even as she felt her heart speed up.

"You can," he responded, kissing her forehead. "And you will."

"So that's a yes? You'll break me out?" she smiled up at him.

His heart swelled. "Let me go work my magic, Waldorf."

Blair scowled at him.

"I only have eyes for you, baby," he said a smirk. "So jealous."

Chuck sauntered up to the nurses' station, prepared to bribe any and everyone to get Blair out of the hospital. He was met with Cassidy. He didn't know the woman well, but his gut instinct told him that she was one of the few he couldn't bribe. "Hello, Cassidy," he greeted.

She didn't even look up from her computer screen. "Hello, Mr. Bass."

Chuck narrowed his eyes at her. He hadn't told her his last name, had he?

"Relax, I used to read Gossip Girl. What can I do for you?"

"How do I get her out of here, Cassidy?" he asked.

"Mr. Bass, all she has to do is poop and she's free to leave," replied Cassidy with a roll of her eyes.

_Goddammit, Blair. _"Really, that's it?"

"That's it. It's a common requisite after surgery. Anesthesia affects everyone differently."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "She wanted me to break her out of a hospital so she didn't have to poop here. She's absolutely insane."

Cassidy just chuckled.

Chuck returned to Blair's room. Closing the door behind him he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Well?" She smiled brightly.

"Blair, I don't have to bribe anyone to get you out of here, you just have to poop."

Blair flinched slightly. "Don't be crass, Chuck."

"I'm not being crass. The hospital requires it before you leave. I think you're being ridiculous right now," he responded.

"It's embarrassing," she whispered.

"Oh my god, Blair. It really isn't," he whispered. "And you know how I snore in my sleep? You fart in yours. So can you please shit so we can go home?"

Blair looked at him, hard. "I do _not _do that thing you just said."

Chuck smirked. "You absolutely do, darling."

Color flushed in Blair's cheeks as the embarrassment rose within her.

Chuck ignored it. "You're being insane. Go poop, Blair. So I can get you out of here."

"Fine," she said quietly. "Just...go out to the waiting room."

"Oh my god, Waldorf. "

"Just _do _it!"

Chuck held up his hands in defeat. "Fine, fine. I'll be back in twenty."

Leaving her, Chuck sauntered back up to the nurse's station. "She kicked me out. So check on her in twenty minutes? Can you tell if she's lying?"

Cassidy let out a giggle. "Yes, I can tell if she's lying."

"Good, because she's not above it."

"You guys make an interesting couple," responded.

"We're not…" he trailed off.

Cassidy gave Chuck a strange look. "Seems pretty couple-y to me."

Chuck sighed. "It's complicated."

"Ah, were you two the commotion I heard about from last night?"

Chuck's face darkened. "Yes and no."

Cassidy tilted her head questioningly.

"As a nurse, aren't you supposed to mind your own business?"

Cassidy chuckled. "Yes. But sue me, I get bored."

"You really should really read Gossip Girl, then."

Cassidy rolled her eyes. "Complicated or not, I can tell you one thing."

"What's that?"

"You love her," Cassidy replied.

"That I do, Cassidy. Quite astute."

"So what's the problem?"

"Until very recently, a prince of a small principality."

Cassidy's mouth formed a small _O _at his admission. "_Until recently._ Well, go get your girl, Mr. Bass."

"Oh, I intend to, Cassidy. Now can you do me favor and check to see if she's pooped? I'm anxious to get her out of here."

"I'll get right on that, Mr. Bass." Cassidy rolled her eyes but stood to leave anyways. "Come on," she said with a wave of her hand.

Blair was in bed, fashion magazine in hand, at the intrusion of Chuck and Cassidy, she looked up nonchalantly.

"Ok, Ms. Waldorf," Cassidy started, "I heard you want go home. And you can, as soon as you poop. So, have you pooped today?"

Blair reddened and looked to Chuck.

"You know I've seen you naked, right?" he asked with a smirk.

Blair flushed a bright shade of fuschia. "CHUCK!"

Cassidy chuckled, still amused by the "complicated" relationship that was Chuck and Blair. "Answer me and maybe you can leave, Ms. Waldorf."

"Yes," Blair replied quietly, avoiding Chuck's eyes.

"Mr. Bass advised me that you might lie to me, so just to let you know, I can tell."

_Motherchucker._

"You can check, I'm not lying," Blair mumbled.

"She's not," offered Chuck, who received daggers from Blair's eyes.

"Then it looks like you're going home today, Ms. Waldorf," answered Cassidy with a smile.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Let me go get the paperwork started," Cassidy responded, smiling at Blair before sharing a glance with Chuck.

Blair noticed and seethed internally. Once Cassidy had left the room, she turned to Chuck. "Something you need to tell me?" she asked lowly.

"Come on, Waldorf. She's been your nurse most of the time you've been here."

"You would know."

Chuck's eyes met hers. "Yes, I would know, Blair. I've been here night and day with you. Forgive me for being friendly with one of the people who took care of you. Who kept you alive." His voice was strangled and harsh.

"Are you planning to sleep with her?"

"You're joking, right?"

"No," she responded.

Chuck shook his head at her. "You really think that lowly of me? I haven't been like that in a while, Waldorf. She's been your nurse and I like her – she's cool. But no, I don't want to sleep with her." Chuck took her hand, before continuing softly, "You're all I want, Blair. All I've ever wanted. So stop being jealous of your nurse."

Blair laced their fingers together and bit her lip. "Is that still true, after all of this?" she whispered.

"It's always been true and it will always be true."

"Chuck, I need—"

"Time, I know. I'm not a fool, Blair. I'm willing to wait. Doesn't mean it's any less true."

Blair smiled up at him. "How do you always know what I'm thinking?"

"I just know you too well, Waldorf." Chuck smirked.

Cassidy returned with Blair's discharge papers. "You're officially free, Ms. Waldorf. As soon as someone's free, I'll send someone up with a wheelchair."

Blair scoffed. "I don't need a wheelchair. I am perfectly capable of walking on my own."

"Hospital policy, Ms. Waldorf."

"Chuck!" Blair demanded.

Chuck just laughed. "I'm not bribing anyone, Waldorf. You'll be out soon."

Blair glared at Chuck and then at Cassidy. "Traitor," she hissed at him.

Cassidy chuckled before leaving them alone.

"I can still go back to my penthouse, you know."

"Do you want to?" he asked, surprised.

"Maybe."

"You're doing that thing where your eyes don't match your mouth."

Her eyes flashed to him. "I'm scared, Chuck."

Chuck found her hand and squeezed it. "Of what? Of me?"

"No…Well, yes."

"If you don't want to stay with me, that's fine - I'll get you your own suite," he replied, his heart falling in his chest. Chuck didn't want to push her, but the idea of having her near him every day had made his heart beat like a drum.

Blair saw the disappointment in his eyes. "Do you want me to have my own suite?" she questioned.

"I want you to be happy, however that's achieved," he replied, an echo of times past.

"You didn't answer my question," she responded.

"No. I want you with me."

"Because?" she asked innocently.

Chuck recognized the look on her face. "I'm not in the mood for games, Blair," he replied wearily. "I want you to stay with me because I love you. Because I don't want you out of my sight. Because the fact that Louis is still in this country scares the living hell out of me. The fact that you've been making yourself sick…No, I don't want you in your own suite. I want you in mine."

"You have that face again," she responded quietly.

"What face?"

"_That _face. The one I told you about," she answered.

Chuck's eyes met hers. "I can't not worry about you, Blair. Especially not after last night. If I hadn't—"

Blair raised a finger to his lips, and felt electricity rocket through her body. "Shh. Don't talk, don't think about 'what if.' You did."

Chuck gently kissed the finger on his lips. "Love you," he murmured against her hand.

Xoxo.

Blair fought the wheelchair all the way. She refused to be seen as weak and incapable. She was Blair Waldorf, goddammit. Even more frustrating, Chuck had smirked at her the whole time. She couldn't believe she had agreed to stay with him until she found her own place. "I hate you," she seethed.

"Stop lying," he responded with a smirk. "Oh, look, here's my limo."

_Basstard. _

Chuck offered her his hand which she reluctantly took. Within moments, Blair was safely in the limo, and she rested her body against the soft leather seats, inhaling the familiar scent of polished leather and scotch that came with Chuck Bass' limo. "I've missed this," she whispered.

"Missed what?"

"Your limo. It feels safe," she answered quietly, suddenly exhausted.

Chuck had left several feet of space between the two of them. He moved closer, closing the empty space between them, and put his arm around her shoulder. "It is safe," he replied, with a quick kiss to her forehead. "You're safe."

"I'm tired, Bass," she whispered.

"So sleep," he whispered back.

"Wake me when we get there?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"Sure," he said softly, knowing he had absolutely no intention of waking her up.

Hours later, Blair opened her eyes to a ceiling that didn't belong to Chuck Bass' limo. She felt silky sheets on her back, and the soft weight of a down comforter on top of her. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls and her ribs ached. "Chuck?" she said quietly without moving. She knew moving would hurt too much.

Silence.

"Chuck?" she said a bit louder, starting to feel herself panic internally. What if she was entirely alone?

She heard the pad of footsteps from beyond the closed door of the bedroom. The door opened and Blair was relieved to see Chuck's face. "Hey, you're awake."

Blair squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to hold back the fresh tears that were welling in her eyes.

Chuck was immediately at the side of the bed. "Hey, Waldorf? What's wrong?" he asked, a tinge of worry in his voice.

"It hurts, Chuck," she whispered. "And I thought I was alone."

Chuck pushed a lock of hair from her face. "You're not alone. You'll never be alone, ok? And I picked up your prescription at the hospital. I'll be right back, ok?"

Blair nodded, even though she didn't want him out of her sight. But she needed this pain to end. Moments later, Chuck returned with a pill and a full glass of water, which she gratefully took. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she felt the pain in her ribs dull slightly within minutes. Able to think clearly without the pain, she realized something. "Oh God, Chuck. Nate."

Chuck's head snapped up at their shared realization. "We never called him."

"Call him now, Chuck? I feel terrible. Everyone knows but him," she said softly.

Chuck nodded solemnly. "I feel pretty terrible myself, actually. Fuck."

Blair took Chuck's hand. "He'll understand. A lot was going on. Just call him now, Chuck."

Chuck nodded with a small smile, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I'll be back, Waldorf."

"You better be."

Chuck left her, closing the French doors of his bedroom behind him. Between the exhaustion and Louis, Chuck had completely forgotten about Nate, and had inadvertently left his best friend in the dark about what had happened to Blair. Running his hand across his jaw, Chuck swallowed and called Nate, who picked up after a few rings. "Nathaniel," he immediately said as soon as he heard Nate answer his phone.

"Chuck? What's up, man? Haven't heard from you – figured you were bombed out somewhere."

"Not quite. I have something I have to tell you, Nathaniel."

Nate simply chuckled into the phone. "Did you get a call girl pregnant, Chuck? I've been waiting for that, honestly."

"No," replied Chuck soberly. "It's about Blair."

"Blair? Man, you have got to let her go. She's engaged, dude."

"Not anymore. Nate, the reason you haven't heard from me – Blair's been in the hospital."

There was a long pause, before Nate responded. "Is she ok?"

"She will be," Chuck replied, honestly.

"What happened?"

Chuck sighed, unsure if he should tell Nate the full story. Making a quick decision, he replied, "I think she'd like to tell you herself. Short story is, she has a broken rib and a fractured rib. The broken one punctured her spleen and she had to have it removed."

Another long pause. "How did she break a rib, Chuck?"

"Like I said, I think she'd rather tell you on her own."

"Where is she?" Nate asked.

"She's with me, at The Empire, for now."

"Chuck…" Nate's voice contained a note of disapproval.

_Why are you also so dense, Nathaniel? _"Like I said, she's not with Louis anymore. She's in pain and doesn't want to be alone, so she's with me. Any further questions should be directed to Blair Waldorf. I was going to call you earlier…But some _stuff _happened."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course, Nathaniel. I think she needs her rest today, though. I'll let you know when she's up for visitors."

"It was Louis, wasn't it?" Nate asked quietly, after a moment.

"Nathaniel, let's just say, if you ever find yourself alone with Louis Grimaldi, I give you permission to kill him. And I'll pay for the best attorney money can buy."

"Chuck—"

"I've already said too much. Goodbye, Nathaniel." With that, Chuck hung up the phone quickly and made his way back to Blair.

She was sitting up, clearly waiting. It was clear to Chuck that she had gotten up and applied a bit of concealer and styled her hair. He smirked in spite of himself. Even with broken ribs, Blair Waldorf was Blair Waldorf. God forbid he see her without makeup on, without her hair perfectly styled. "So?" she asked nonchalantly.

"I didn't tell him everything, but for once, Nathaniel was able to put the pieces together. He wants to see you."

"What did you say?"

"That you were tired and I'd let him know when you were ready."

Blair let out a heavy sigh. "Thank you. I just…I need to be alone for a little bit."

Chuck gave her sad smile. "I'll be in the guest room if you need me, Waldorf."

Blair grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards her. "I didn't mean from you, Bass."

"No?"

"No," she sighed. "You saved me…more than once, Chuck. Without you, I –"

Chuck interrupted her, "Don't think about 'what if.'"

Blair nodded solemnly. "When I say I want to be alone – you don't count."

Chuck couldn't help his smirk. "So you want to be alone, with me?" he asked.

"I'm going to ignore the lecherous smirk on your face right now. Just come lay next to me and keep your mouth shut."

"I love it when you're bossy, Blair."

"Seriously, Bass. Shut up," she returned, exasperated.

Chuck conceded, crawling into bed with her. "Sorry," he muttered. "You know how I am." She nodded and he sidled up next to her, as much as he wanted to touch her, to hold her, Chuck resisted.

"You act like I'm going to break."

"You're a little broken already, Waldorf. I'm just trying not to break you anymore."

Blair nodded slightly before lying her head on his chest, closing her eyes.

_Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,_

_Humpty Dumpty had a great fall._

_All the king's horses and the king's men,_

_Couldn't put Humpty together again._

Maybe a king – or prince – couldn't put her broken self back together again – But maybe a Chuck Bass could.

**Reviews, please? They make me happy. **


	8. Faceplant

**Chapter 8 – Faceplant**

**A/N – So how's everyone doing during this pandemic? Everything is closed here, but it's business for me as usual. But my trip to Savannah this month got postponed so that sucks ): So here's some Chair to cheer you up during your social quarantine.**

**Thanks to everyone who's read, favorited, followed, reviewed. I really appreciate it!**

Blair had fallen asleep hours ago, but Chuck was unable to find the same relief. He waited until it was completely dark outside before he gently extricated himself from her arms. He needed a drink. _Badly. _He didn't bother turning on a light on in his suite - he had drunkenly fumbled towards his ever-constant bottle of scotch on many occasions – and this was nothing new. He poured himself full tumbler of his drink of choice and took a large swig. After swallowing, he found he couldn't breathe, at all. Gasping for air he opened the door to his patio and welcomed the cold night air. _Breathe._ Stepping outside helped; he forced the cold night air into his lungs and felt a rickety release of breath from his lungs.

_Breathe, Chuck, breathe. _It was her voice he heard in his head. It was her speaking, so of course he listened, letting another shallow breath leave his body. He walked further out on his patio and took a seat on the loveseat positioned against one of the railings, scotch still in his hand. Another gulp of scotch in, another shaky breath out. It was almost as if he hadn't breathed oxygen in a few days. In a way he hadn't – the last few days had been too much and he realized he hadn't once stopped to take a deep breath. She was here, she was safe. So why did he still feel panicked in the pit of stomach? It was unmistakable and heavy, like a rock had taken up residence in his gut. Another swig of scotch in, another breath out.

"Chuck?" Her voice sounded small and far away.

Chuck looked up from where he was staring intensely staring at his scotch. "Blair," he returned quietly.

His eyes met hers slowly, and the look on his face scared her. Even from where she stood, she could see that his black eyes were full of scotch and torture. She moved to be closer to him. "Chuck?" she asked again softly, closing the gap between them.

Chuck absently twirled his tumbler of scotch in his hands. "You should go back to bed, Blair," he said quietly. Dejectedly.

"Then come with me." Blair settled herself next to him on the loveseat and took his chin in her hand, forcing his gaze to meet hers. "You ok?"

"Blair, I…" he trailed off.

"You what, Chuck?"

He shook his head slowly. "I can't, Blair."

Blair cocked her head to the side in question. "Can't what?"

"I just _can't_ right now, ok?" he answered with a little more bite in his voice than he intended.

Blair visibly flinched and moved away from him slightly. "Ok," she replied in a small voice.

Chuck felt a pang of guilt. Here was the girl he loved, who had been through so much – too much – and here he was, biting her head off because she was cared about him. _Goddammit. _He grabbed her hand. "Blair, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to sound so harsh," he said gently, meeting her gaze.

"Of course," she smiled at him. "I should head back inside."

He saw the change in her face – she had put her mask on in an instant. Chuck's guilt gnawed at him. He had scared her and now she had forced herself back in hiding. "Blair, wait." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently to him. "I'm sorry," he said, kissing her forehead. "I really didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just…frankly, I'm exhausted." Chuck felt her body relax into his slightly. Chuck Bass didn't do apologies, and he had just apologized to her twice. She had to know that he was sincere.

"It's ok," she said softly. They sat in silence for a few moments, Chuck absently twirling her curls in between his fingers and her breathing in his scent before she spoke again, "What are you thinking about?"

"I don't really feel like talking right now, Blair."

Blair looked up at him. "Don't shut me out, Chuck," she begged.

Chuck shook his head. "I'm not. I just need to breathe."

"That's _exactly_ what you're doing, Chuck. Shutting me out. I can see it written all over your face. Why?" Blair's voice trembled.

He considered her for a long moment, before he realized that she was absolutely right – he _was_ shutting her out. "I don't know," he returned lamely.

"Well, stop," she ordered, even though they both heard her voice break at the end.

Chuck nodded solemnly at her request.

"Starting now would be great, Chuck."

Chuck ran a hand over his eyes. "What I'm thinking right now, Blair, is how badly I just want to get drunk."

Blair blanched at his words. "That's just wonderful, Chuck."

"You asked me. I told you. I'm sorry if it's not what you want to hear," he answered honestly.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, her voice suddenly small again, so very much unlike Blair Waldorf.

His gaze snapped up meet hers. "What?" Seeing the question reflected in her eyes he took her face in his hands. "No, Blair. I am not. I just need to breathe, think, decompress. And you need to go back to bed. Please." Her gaze dropped to the ground and he squeezed her face gently. "We'll talk tomorrow, I promise."

She nodded slowly and rose to leave him. "Goodnight, Chuck," she said softly.

"Goodnight, Blair," he returned.

As the patio door shut quietly behind her, Chuck exhaled. He hadn't meant to shut her out, concern her, hurt her. He had scared her and the guilt inside of him exploded. All he wanted to do was protect her, but here he was hurting her. _You're going to hurt her again_. Suddenly the rock in his stomach made complete sense. Chuck downed his glass of scotch and stared blankly into the night sky.

Chuck stumbled into the bedroom hours later, waking Blair from her disturbed sleep. She was in pain and every time she managed to drift off, there seemed to be nightmares waiting for her just at the edge of sleep. She feigned sleep as she heard Chuck open and close drawers, clearly changing into his pajamas. Normally, Chuck could tell within minutes, if not seconds, if Blair was faking sleep, but Blair could tell from the sounds in the room that Chuck was highly intoxicated. Blair could feel his eyes on her before she felt the gentle dip of the mattress as Chuck slid into the bed next to her. He sidled closer towards her and she could smell the heavy scent of scotch on his breath. She wanted to look into his eyes, wanted to reach out her arms for him, but their earlier conversation told her that would be a mistake. She realized hours earlier as she laid in bed alone, fighting for sleep, that she had put Chuck through a lot these past few days. Of course he had needed to get drunk and hide in his head, if just for a little bit.

Not realizing that she was still awake, Chuck spoke, "I'm sorry." His voice was so quiet she barely heard him. He watched her for a bit longer before the scotch and exhaustion took their toll on his body and he passed out, snoring softly beside her.

Xoxo.

The sunlight streamed through the windows of his bedroom, the rays landing on Chuck Bass' face. He winced at the pain in his head before he even opened his eyes. He instinctively reached his arm out to touch Blair, but his arm fell lonely onto the empty bed. Chuck's eyes shot open and he groaned, the sun creating a dull ache in his head. He ignored it, though - locating Blair was more important. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing his throbbing temple. "Blair?" he called softly, opening the French doors of his bedroom. Even the sound of his own voice hurt his head. Chuck found her quickly; she was laying on his couch, remote in hand, staring blankly at the television. He moved towards her and sat down on the couch, shifting so her feet were in his lap. He took one of her dainty feet in his hands started to massage it. "Hi," he said softly.

Blair's gaze lazily shifted to his and she stared at him blankly. "Hey," she responded.

Chuck narrowed his eyes. He didn't clearly remember the conversation they had last night, and although he knew it hadn't gone well, it hadn't gone _that _badly. _Right?_ "How long have you been up?" he asked.

She just gazed at him. "Awhile," she answered, slowly.

It was then that Chuck noticed how big her eyes were - her pupils dilated so large that there was not even a hint of the chocolate brown he loved so much - instead her eyes were black. The realization dawned on him that Blair Waldorf was high. He sighed, trying not to panic. "How many pills did you take, Blair?"

"A few."

"How many is few, Blair?" he asked, his panic rising. The Vicodin she was prescribed to was nothing compared to the morphine she was on while she was in the hospital, but it was still a serious drug.

"Dunno."

"Jesus, Waldorf." Chuck rose from the couch and went into his kitchen, where her bottle of pain medication sat. He poured the pills out onto the counter and counted them. She had taken two. The panic in him settled, but did not die. Blair wasn't about to overdose, but he was disconcerted. _Blair Waldorf, high as a kite. Never thought I'd see the day. _

Chuck returned to his former spot on the couch with Blair, who was back to staring at the television with her wide eyes. He turned to see what she watching and was shocked to see Jerry Springer. Chuck could barely contain a laugh. Blair Waldorf, high on pain killers and watching Jerry Springer. _Gossip Girl would _love _this_, he thought to himself, knowing he would never tell _anyone_ about this. "Feeling good, Waldorf?" he asked her.

"Feelin' good," she mimicked.

"Were you in a lot of pain? Is that why you took two?" he asked, running a finger absently on the arch of her foot.

Her dark eyes turned back to him. "Yes," she whispered.

There was more in that sentence that just her ribs hurting and he knew it, but there was no point in trying to discuss it with her now. She was too stoned to have a serious conversation, so he just nodded at her. "Wake me up next time."

She nodded slowly at him. At that moment, Blair's phone began to vibrate on the coffee table in front of them. Blair's eyes widened as she stared at it, as if she had never seen the object before and was completely bewildered by it. Chuck stifled a chuckle as he reached for her phone. _Daddy, _read the screen. "Harold," Chuck answered.

"Hello, Chuck, how's my girl?"

"She's doing ok. A bit loopy at the moment. You'd think she's never seen a phone ring before. And she's watching Jerry Springer," Chuck answered.

"Ah, painkillers. I remember them vividly. Or rather, I remember mostly nothing," chuckled Harold on the other end.

"What can I do for you, Harold? I'm sure you want to speak to Blair, but she's only been giving me one-word answers."

"Mind if I stop by later? Now that's she out of the hospital I must be getting back to work and Roman."

_Of fucking course. _"Of course, Harold. I'll make myself scarce and you two can have dinner in my suite tonight. I'd hazard a guess she'll be sleeping the rest of the afternoon," Chuck answered, trying to contain the venom in his voice. This was just like Blair's parents. Of course they'd be there if something horrible happened, but the moment everything appeared all right on the surface, they were the first ones to jump ship.

"Sounds wonderful, Chuck," said the other man brightly.

"8 o'clock, then."

Chuck and Harold shared goodbyes and Chuck hung up Blair's phone, placing it back on the coffee table. "Sorry, Waldorf," he said softly.

"Daddy?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, baby."

Blair nodded solemnly, understanding even through her drug-induced haze.

"He's coming over for dinner tonight," he said, seeing her crestfallen expression.

"Then France," she replied without a hint of a question.

"Then France," he affirmed.

"Figures," Blair responded quietly. She closed her eyes slowly and willed herself into a drug-induced sleep.

She woke hours later, groggy, but feeling well-rested. Opening her eyes, she saw Chuck sitting with her feet in his lap, looking at her curiously. "Stop looking at me like that, Bass," she said, irritated.

Chuck ignored her. "How do you feel, Waldorf?"

"Fine," she snapped.

He chuckled. "Someone's testy.

"You know my feet are in your lap, right? I could seriously damage you if you're not careful," she answered darkly.

Chuck smirked back at her. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would, Bass," she threatened, even though they both knew her threats held no wait. After a long pause, she changed the subject. "My father?"

"He'll be here at 8," Chuck responded.

She felt tears well in her eyes. "So it wasn't a dream. He's going to leave already?"

"I'm sorry," he replied gently.

Blair blinked back her tears and smiled. "It's fine. I shouldn't have expected anything less."

"Doesn't mean you don't deserve more," he countered.

"I guess," she responded doubtfully. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table – missed text messages from Serena, Nate, and a few other numbers she didn't recognize; she'd deal with those later – and checked the time: 6:30. "I can't believe you let me sleep so long, Chuck! I should start getting ready…I don't have any clothes here," she suddenly realized.

"First of all, you were on drugs and I don't think I'd have been able to wake you if I tried. Second," he paused, grinning sheepishly, "I had Dorota bring over a few things while you were passed out."

"You think of everything, don't you?"

"That I do," he replied with a smirk.

Blair spent the next hour getting ready. Her choices in makeup and clothes were scarce, but Chuck had Dorota bring her all of her favorites. Society could see Chuck Bass as a soulless degenerate all they wanted, but Blair knew better. From her Dior foundation, her NARS blush, and Anastasia eyeshadow palette, she had all her favorites. All thanks to the behest of Chuck Bass. But while she knew how beautiful she looked on the outside, she felt completely disgusting on the inside. Her father was leaving her when she desperately needed him. Every time she said it to herself, she felt the knife drive a little bit deeper into her back. _How could he?_

She heard a knock at the door. "You don't have to knock, Chuck, this is your suite," she called.

"Your dad's here, and I'm heading out."

Blair turned from where she was sitting to look at him. "You're leaving?"

"I thought you two should have some time alone."

"Where are you going?"

Chuck just shrugged. "I'll find somewhere. I have some business to attend to, anyway."

"Like?" she asked with a cock of her head.

"Wouldn't you like to know? You're cute when you're jealous, Waldorf."

"Chuck," she said softly, beckoning him to step further inside the room.

Chuck noticed the shift in her mood immediately. He strode towards and kneeled before where she sat. "Blair?"

"What do I do?" She asked after a moment of hesitation.

"You tell him how you feel. You tell him the truth," he replied, gazing up at her. "Just talk to him. He's somewhat clueless, but he does love you. Don't pretend like everything is ok when it isn't."

"Says you," she scoffed.

"Yes, says me," he replied. "Talk to your father, Blair."

Blair gulped. "Ok. I will."

Chuck rose to kiss her cheek. "I know you can do it, Waldorf." He held out his hand for her. "Come on, I'll escort you on my way out. You look gorgeous, by the way."

"Always the flatterer," she responded with an eye roll.

"Only for you, Waldorf."

Xoxo.

Chuck left his suite at The Empire and got into his limo. Truthfully, he didn't really know where he was going, and he didn't really have any business to attend to. Well, at least none that he knew of. He had been ignoring Bass Industries for almost a week. _How could I ever trade her for a stupid fucking hotel?_ Hindsight. Chuck pulled his phone and dialed Andrew Tyler's number. Andrew picked up almost immediately. "Tyler," Chuck seethed.

"Mr. Bass?"

"I need eyes on Louis Grimaldi at all times. I'm sure he's been bailed out of jail by now. I have to make sure he's nowhere near Blair. So follow him, everywhere. Gather all the dirt you can."

"Understood, Mr. Bass. He has been bailed out but he's been spending most of his time on the Lower East Side with his personal assistant, Estee. You never called me off, Chuck," Tyler responded. "And with the fortune you're paying me, I figured I'd do my due diligence."

"You never disappoint me, Tyler. You might even get a healthy Christmas bonus this year," Chuck responded.

Chuck had barely hung up with Andrew Tyler before his phone started ringing again. _Eleanor Waldorf. Fuck._ "Mrs. Rose?" he answered with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

Eleanor's voice was panicked as she answered, "I've been trying to reach Blair all day. Do you know where she is?

"Yes. She's fine. She lost her phone and Ha- I bought her a new one."

"Louis has been calling me nonstop, he doesn't know where she is either. Is she in some kind of trouble, Charles?"

"No," he replied.

"Charles, you're lying."

"You Waldorfs always know. But I will say nothing else. She's with me, and she's safe. But don't believe a word Louis says. They're done," he answered.

"I imagine she's inconsolable, this is a _complete _disaster," Eleanor said.

"Eleanor, may I speak frankly?"

"Quickly, Charles, I have to get back to work."

"Jesus Christ, Eleanor, think about your daughter. She's suffering right now."

"So she's gained a few pounds because of the break up. Whatever she's done, I'm sure can be fixed - "

"Eleanor," Chuck's interrupted, his voice cold, "Really?"

"Yes, really. Charles, what is going on? What has Blair done now?" Eleanor responded, clearly exasperated.

Chuck gritted his teeth on the other end of the phone, debating internally whether he should tell Eleanor about what was really going on with her daughter. Eventually, he decided to keep Eleanor in the dark.

After Chuck didn't answer for a few moments, Eleanor's voice once through lilted through the phone. "How bad, Charles? How many sizes?" she asked, her voice full of concern and fear.

_Really? That's what you're afraid of? That she's gained ten pounds!? _"Call you daughter, Eleanor. And at least try to be understanding." Chuck spat out Blair's new phone number and

swiftly hung up his phone, completely fed up with Eleanor and her expectations and inability to care about the right things where Blair was concerned. No wonder her insecurities were so deeply rooted. Now completely tense, Chuck sighed deeply in the cold dark night of New York, and headed towards Nate's, hoping his best friend had a bottle of scotch and maybe a joint.

Xoxo.

Blair was quiet as she sat across from her father at the dinner table in Chuck's suite. In her lap, she was fidgeting with her hands and twirling her ruby ring absently on her finger. _You can do this._ "So, Daddy."

"Yes, Blair Bear?" he returned easily, as he cut himself another piece of steak, dipping it delicately in mushroom sauce.

"Are you really going back to France?" There, it was out. She had asked.

Her father looked up at her and his smile faltered a bit. "I am. I have to get back to work, Blair Bear."

She had hoped that she was wrong, that her father wasn't actually leaving her. She had hoped her drug-induced memory was actually a dream, and she had hoped that Chuck had grossly misunderstood what her father had said on the phone. "You can't stay a little bit longer?" she asked, her eyes dropping to her plate of roasted vegetables, which she pushed around aimlessly with her fork.

"I'm afraid not, my dear; I'm in the middle of a very important case and I must get back to it."

"Oh," Blair responded weakly.

"What's this about, Blair? You're out of the hospital and you've got Chuck here, and I took care of the Louis situation personally."

_No, you didn't. _"So that's just it then? You fly in for a few days after my fiancée almost kills me and then you just leave? Like it's no big deal?"

_You tell him how you feel. You tell him the truth. Just talk to him. He's somewhat clueless, but he does love you. Don't pretend like everything is ok when it isn't._

She couldn't raise her gaze to meet her father's, but she heard him gently set his cutlery down on the plate before him. "Blair—"

"You always leave, Daddy. You always leave when I need you the most," she interrupted, tears welling in her eyes.

"That's not what I'm doing, Blair. I can't just abandon –"

"You can't abandon work. But you can abandon your daughter," she finished. "It's fine, I understand." Blair threw her cloth napkin down on the table and rose to stand slowly, masking a wince. "You should go. Wouldn't want you to be late for your flight." Blair turned away from her father and opened the French doors to Chuck's bedroom, closing them and locking them soundly. She leaned her back against the door and waited, _hoped_, her father would come for her. He would tell her he realized his mistake, he would tell her he would stay. Minutes passed, and nothing she hoped for happened. All she heard was the gentle click as her father left Chuck's suite. A strangled sob escaped her throat. He had run to her from France as soon as she found out she was in the hospital – how could he be so willing to leave her?

Shaking her head and forcing her tears back, Blair stepped out of her clothes and went to look for some pajamas. All she wanted to do was sleep. Spotting Chuck's fluffy white robe thrown over the chair, she immediately grabbed it and wrapped it around her small frame, allowing it to envelope her in his scent. It provided her with a small comfort. Blair desperately wanted Chuck to come back. He was the only thing holding her broken pieces together, he was the only thing that made her feel normal, like she was worth something. Letting out a sigh, Blair shook her head at herself. He said had business to attend to, and as much as she wanted him – no, _needed_ him – to come back, she wouldn't bother him.

Slightly comforted by wearing Chuck's robe, Blair unlocked the bedroom doors and walked quietly back out into the living space of Chuck's sweet. She immediately spied the dinner table, with Harold's food half eaten and hers completely untouched. Just the sight made her heart drop into her stomach. The dull ache in her side suddenly became unbearable and tore her eyes away from the dinner table and continued her way into the kitchen, where she found her bottle of Vicodin. That morning she had been woken up by the pain in her side, and had immediately gone to the kitchen to take a pill, desperate for the pain to stop. When she didn't feel relief immediately, she had down another. She had been on the verge of swallowing a third pill before the numbness hit her. A delicious nothing enveloping her body. Nothing hurt and everything was right with the world.

Once again, she was desperate for the pain to stop. She shook two pills into her hand and downed them with a gulp of water without a second thought.

Xoxo.

"Chuck?" Nate answered the door with a surprised look on his face.

"Nathaniel. Busy, or can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure, man. Just wasn't expecting to see you."

Chuck strolled into Nate's apartment with an ease of familiarity. Heading directly for the kitchen, he pulled a glass from a cabinet and poured himself a glass from a waiting bottle of scotch. "Blair's having dinner with Harold," he answered, taking a sip.

"So?" Nate responded, as he too poured himself a glass of scotch.

"In my suite. Wanted to give them some time to talk. He's going back to France," Chuck answered darkly.

Nate's brow furrowed. "So soon?"

"My sentiments exactly, Nathaniel," Chuck sighed, taking another sip of his drink.

"How's she doing anyway, man?" Nate asked softly.

"Honestly, Nathaniel, I don't know. Most of the time she seems ok. But there are moments when I wonder if she really is." Chuck swirled the amber liquid in his glass absently. "When I woke up this morning, she was high on Vicodin."

Nate just laughed. "Blair, high? You have got to be joking."

"I'm not. She was watching Jerry Springer, Nathaniel. Well, not really watching. But it was on."

"You're worried," Nate replied.

"Indeed I am, Nathaniel. Got any pot? I could really go for a joint right now," Chuck replied, effectively changing the subject.

"You know I do, Chuck. Come on. I've already got a few rolled," Nate responded with a smile, signaling with a nod of the head for Chuck to follow him into the living room.

Sitting down on the couch, Nate pulled a plastic bag out of the small box sitting on the coffee table and with a grin, pulled a joint from the bag and handed it to Chuck, as well as taking one for himself. The two friends lit their joints and smoked in silence. "I talked to Eleanor tonight," Chuck started.

Nate grinned at Chuck. "I'm sure that went well."

"I think she was more upset that Blair wasn't engaged to _him_ more than she was about Blair being in the hospital. How fucked up is that?"

Nate's eyes were completely glazed over. "Super fucked, man."

Chuck exhaled deeply. Nathaniel was not being helpful tonight. "Sorry to smoke and run, Nathaniel. But I'm going to head home."

Nate turned his head lazily to look at Chuck. "Sure, man."

_Thanks for nothing, Archibald._

When Chuck returned to his suite, he was immediately unnerved. All the lights were on, but there was no one in sight. Complete silence. He spotted a half-eaten steak and a plate of roasted vegetables that hadn't been touched, save for a fork moving them around to give the impression it had been eaten. Blair was nowhere in sight. Chuck walked into his bedroom and spotted her lying atop his down comforter, wearing his robe. Clearly dinner with Harold had not gone well.

Removing his shoes and tie, he climbed onto the bed and settled next to her. "Blair?" he whispered.

"Yeah," she replied, without opening her eyes.

"How was dinner?"

"You know."

Her short answers alarmed him. "Open your eyes. Look at me," he demanded softly. Blair's eyelids opened slowly and his fears were confirmed. She was high again. "Blair…" Why was she doing this?

"Don't," she said simply.

Chuck moved to be closer to her, and put a protective arm around her, his fingers reaching for hers. "I won't." He knew better than most how easy it was to run away from real feelings by using alcohol or drugs. But seeing Blair Waldorf doing what he did on instinct unnerved him. He didn't like seeing her like this. A thought crossed his mind, _Is this how she felt after my father died?_ The thought made him feel ill. Because he didn't like this feeling at all.

Blair woke up the next morning desperate for water. Her tongue was thick and heavy, almost like it didn't belong in her mouth at all. Her tongue felt dry and sandpapery, like a cat's. She sat up quickly and immediately regretted it. _Damn ribs._

Chuck was immediately awakened by her movements. "Blair?"

"Water," she choked.

He nodded and immediately went to the kitchen to grab her a glass of water. He strode back, glass in hand, and she grabbed it from his hands before gulping all of the water at once.

"We need to talk, Blair," he said quietly.

Blair's heart dropped. "Oh, ok," she replied quietly.

"Don't. It's not like that. You're self-medicating and it scares the shit out of me."

"I don't know what you're talking about. And _you _self-medicate, Bass," she replied coolly.

Chuck nodded. "I do. Which is how I know you're doing the same thing."

"Dinner last night didn't go well," she replied sadly.

"I know. I could tell."

"I just wanted the pain to stop."

"I know, baby," he replied, stroking her hair.

"I wanted you to come back, but I knew you were working. I didn't want to bother you."

Chuck closed his eyes._ Goddammit._ "Blair?"

"Yes?"

"I don't give a fuck what I'm doing. Tell me you need me and I'm here." _Who castrated you, Bass? _Blair Waldorf.

She gave him a small smile. "Really?"

"Really." _You are everything. _"Tell me what happened?"

"I asked him to stay for a little bit longer. But he has a super important client. He can't just abandon work. Just me," she replied, her voice small. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Chuck answered immediately, kissing her forehead. "It has nothing to do with you, Waldorf, I promise. It's all them."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you better than anyone. Great, good, bad and absolutely demonic. It's not you, it's them."

"Did you just call me demonic?" she pulled away from him.

"You can be, when you want to be," he smirked. "But seriously, Waldorf. We're cut from the same cloth, absent parenting and all that.

"I just don't understand how he could hop on a plane at a moment's notice to come here and then just leave me alone," she replied sadly.

Chuck settled back into the bed next to her and put a protective arm around her. "I don't know either, Waldorf."

"You're not going to leave me, are you?" she asked, voice uncertain.

"I told you before, Waldorf. I'm not leaving."

Blair's eyes rose to meet Chuck's and seeing the sincerity in them, she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, but feeling Chuck moan against her mouth, she slid her tongue is mouth, deepening the kiss. His tongue eagerly entwined with hers, and she felt his body shift to be closer to her. She groaned as Chuck's lips left hers, but she felt a flutter in belly as he pressed his lips against her pulse point and then against her collar bone and then against the nape of her neck before his lips met hers again. Their kisses were hurried, tortured. Blair felt her hands move of their own volition, and suddenly she was pulling his shirt from his pants and unbuttoning his shirt. Chuck groaned against her lips and pulled away. "Stop. We can't."

"Why?" she asked seductively, seeking his lips again.

Chuck allowed a soft kiss to meet his lips before he pulled away. "Blair. Stop."

"Why?" she asked meekly, hurt.

"You have a broken rib, Blair. I can't. I'll hurt you," he returned softly.

"You just don't want me. Right, Chuck?" she asked heatedly.

"Blair…"

She rose quickly, ignoring the pain in her side. "You know what? Just don't. I'm leaving."

"Blair, don't."

"Shut up, Chuck," she seethed, hurriedly pulling on an outfit she found in his closet before pulling on a pair of shoes she wasn't sure even matched, and grabbing her bag off his dresser. Chuck made another attempt to grab her arm, but she shook him off. "Stop, Chuck," she said mockingly.

Without another glance, she left his bedroom, and not long afterwards he heard the soft click of the door to his suite. Chuck sat on alone his bed, confused and with his lips tingling from her kisses. And once again, she was gone.

**Let me know what you think? Please? **


	9. Cruel

**Chapter 9 – Cruel**

**Another chapter pretty quickly. Besides work and the occasional trip to the grocery store, I am in quarantine. I have cleaned every inch of my apartment and I am BORED. Thanks to everyone who reviews, they seriously make me smile….so, uh, keep doing that, please? Or I'll give Chuck the coronavirus.**

Blair had no idea where she was going; she just knew she had to get away. Her father's rejection was hard enough, but Chuck? That was even worse. She was angry and embarrassed and she needed to escape. Hailing a cab with absolutely no destination in mind, she told the cabbie to take her to the one place she knew offered escape – Victrola.

She entered the club without issue – the bouncers were probably under permanent strict orders to let her inside without incident – and made her way to the bar. Despite how packed the club was, the bar was relatively quiet, for which she was thankful. Taking a seat at the elegant oak bar, she ordered a martini from the bartender. When her drink arrived, she took a deep sip, savoring the alcoholic burn of the gin and the acidic taste of lemon. She could still taste Chuck on her lips – scotch and woodiness, and _warmth. _She could smell him all around her, despite the crowdedness of the club. She downed her drink in an instant – she had to get away from him, get away from everything.

Blair signaled the bartender for another drink before she heard the voice behind her, "Put it on my tab."

Turning in her seat slightly, her eyes confirmed what her ears already knew. Carter Baizen. "Carter, what are you doing here?"

Carter merely smirked before taking a seat next to her. "Buying you a drink."

Blair huffed at him. "That won't work a second time, Carter," she responded taking a deep sip of her fresh martini as it arrived. "Also, how do you have a tab here?"

"I was here first. So maybe I should be asking what you're doing here?" he responded easily. "I didn't know _princesses_ were allowed to drink alcohol, especially in places of pure debauchery," he replied, his hand motioning around the club. He pointedly ignored her second question.

"I'm not a princess, Carter."

"Yet."

"Ever," she responded, adamantly. The alcohol was making her too talkative, she thought.

"Trouble in paradise?" Carter asked.

"Why do you care?" she replied hotly, taking another sip of her drink.

"Honestly? I don't. I'm just trying to make conversation."

Blair felt the tears well behind her eyes and she chugged the rest of her martini. "Thanks for being a friend, Carter," she seethed. "You can go now."

"Blair? Are you alright?" Carter asked, softening.

"You just said you didn't care."

"Yes, and I'm an asshole."

"I need another martini," she said simply in response.

Carter motioned to the bartender. "I'll tell you why I'm really here if you tell me what's wrong."

Blair chugged her martini as soon as it slid in front of her. "You first. Mine's pretty bad," she responded.

Carter looked at her for a brief moment, studying her, before continuing, "I'm looking for Serena."

Blair's head snapped up. "Well, she's not here. Also, why?"

Carter sighed. "I figured that out a while ago. Because I miss her."

Blair chuckled. "Carter Baizen, what a surprise."

"You can think whatever you want about me, but I do actually have a heart," Carter returned. "So, you know why I'm here. Your turn."

"Louis and I broke up," she said simply, waving the bartender for another drink. She was definitely tipsy at this point, but wanted more.

"I'm sorry, Blair. I di-"

"Don't," she interrupted. "I dumped him." She turned in her barstool to fully face him, suddenly emboldened. "You know, the Vicodin is the best with the whole broken rib thing, but martinis help, too."

"Broken rib?" Carter asked suspiciously.

"I guess it happens sometimes when you kick someone," she replied easily.

"Blair…"

"What? 'I'm sorry?' I'm sick of hearing it. I'm sick of the pity on everyone's faces. Yeah, Louis hit me. Big deal. I could've left, but I didn't because I'm stupid. I'd probably still be engaged if Chuck hadn't found out," she let out.

Carter absorbed her words, before responding, "Chuck?"

"Yes, _Chuck_."

"Does he know you're here?"

"No, no one does. I needed to get away. So, I ran here."

"Alone? To get drunk, with a broken rib?" he asked incredulously.

She knew she was drunk when she responded. "My dad left me without a thought, and Chuck doesn't want me, so yeah. I guess that's exactly what happened." Carter pulled out his phone and looked through his contacts before finding the one he was looking for and hitting 'call.' "What are you doing?" Blair demanded.

"Helping you," he responded simply, as he held his phone up to his ear. "Bass? Looking for a certain Waldorf?" Carter paused to listen to Chuck's reply on the other end. "I've got her here at the bar at Victrola, and yes, she's fine, if not quite intoxicated." Another pause. "I'll keep an eye on her, don't worry," he said, before hanging up his phone.

"You had no right to do that," she seethed.

Carter shrugged. "Maybe not - but you're alone in a bar, drunk and with a broken rib. You may think I'm a monster, but that screams 'bad news' to me, to be honest."

Blair relented and lowered her head into her hands. "Louis is still in the city, too," she said quietly. "I'm sure Chuck has an eye on him, but I shouldn't have gone out alone…Fuck, I shouldn't be afraid to go out alone," she cried.

"No, you shouldn't be. I'm sorry, Blair. What he did…is horrible," he responded, putting an arm around her delicately, completely unsure of what to say to her in that moment.

A few tears streamed down her alcohol-flushed cheeks. "Is Chuck coming?"

"What do you think?"

"Thank you, Carter. You're really not so horrible. I'll talk to Serena," she offered weakly

"I would appreciate that," he replied as she started to sob into him.

Chuck walked in a few minutes later, and Carter saw Chuck's jaw tighten when he saw Carter and Blair's embrace. Carter lifted a hand in a way of apology. Chuck strode towards them, his fists clenched, before he noticed that Carter wasn't holding Blair intimately, he was holding her because she was crying. "Blair?" he asked quietly, when he reached the pair.

Blair didn't answer, she simply continued to cry into Carter. Carter finally answered for her, "She had a few martinis, pretty quickly. She's a little drunk."

Chuck glared at Carter. "What did you do, Baizen?"

"I didn't do _anything_, Bass. I bought her a few drinks and she told me about Louis…If I had known, I wouldn't have—"

"She told you about Louis?" Chuck interrupted.

Carter simply nodded. "I called you right after."

Chuck nodded back dumbly. "Blair? Waldorf?"

Blair finally acknowledged Chuck and let out a strangled sob, "Chuck?"

Chuck leaned forward to take her into his arms, kissing the top of her hair. "I'm here, baby. Come on, my car's right outside, let's get you home."

Blair simply nodded as Chuck led her, stumbling slightly, out to his car. He helped her into the car before speaking, "I'll be right back, I need to talk to Carter."

Her eyes were glazing over as she spoke, "He didn't do anything, Chuck. I think he's still in love with Serena."

Chuck nodded. "I know, just stay here, ok? I'll be back."

Chuck walked back into Victrola and took the seat at the bar Blair had recently vacated. "So, you know," he said to Carter without looking at the other man.

"I know."

"If you tell anyone, I will destroy you," Chuck threatened.

"Bass, I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm honestly horrified. And disgusted," Carter responded.

Chuck finally let himself look at Carter. "Thanks for the call," he sighed.

"You're lucky that I found her and not someone else," Carter warned. "A broken rib? Jesus Christ, Bass."

Chuck nodded. "I know."

"Do you have eyes on him?" Carter asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You know I do," Chuck answered. "I have my PI on him 24/7. If he comes anywhere near Blair, I'll know about it."

"Good."

"I have to go, Baizen. Thanks for not being scum, for once," Chuck said, rising from his seat at the bar.

"I'll let you know if I come across Louis," Carter spoke suddenly, quietly.

Chuck's eyes snapped to meet Carter's; the older man never used his first name. "Thanks," Chuck replied, defeated, before he did something he thought he'd never do – he patted Carter Carter's shoulder in a sign of familiarity, of friendship, before he made his way to his waiting limo.

Reaching his limo, he opened the door to find a passed-out Blair Waldorf laid across the leather seats. Chuck sighed as he slid into his limo, "Arthur, to the Empire," he ordered before he closed the partition and slid closer to her, until he was laying behind her, her body pressed against his. He held her as tightly as he could without hurting her. "I love you," he whispered into her hair.

She was drunk and passed out, but he could swear he heard her murmur "love you," back.

Xoxo.

It had been a long time since Carter Baizen had been alone with Blair Waldorf. He remembered the determined, stubborn, sexy, _bitchy_ Blair Waldorf from years ago and his mind simply couldn't associate _that_ Blair Waldorf with the girl who had been crying in his arms minutes ago.

Carter had been honest, he was here for Serena. He missed her. _He loved her_.

But despite what everyone thought about him, he actually did care about Blair Waldorf, and the fact that someone had hurt her made him sick to his stomach. If someone had hurt Serena like Louis had hurt Blair… The thought made his blood boil and his heart pound soundly in his skull. He had to call her; finding her in his contacts he pressed his thumb down to call.

"Carter?" she answered after a few rings.

"Hello, Serena," he replied, pushing down the fluttering feeling in his stomach.

"What do you want, Carter," she asked impatiently.

"I was just with your best friend, she seemed…off."

"You were with Blair?" Serena nearly shouted, worry filling her voice.

"I found her drunk at Victrola. She's with Bass now, so she's fine. We talked about you, though."

"Me?"

"You," Carter answered sincerely.

"Why?" Serena asked, suspicious filling her voice.

"I found her at the bar at Victrola…Where I was looking for you," he responded.

"And why were you looking for me, Carter," she asked, exasperated.

"I miss you, Serena."

There was a long pause, and Carter was almost certain Serena had hung up her phone before she heard her respond weakly, "Really?"

"Yes, Serena. I haven't stopped thinking about you since Santorini."

"Which time?" she asked.

"The first time. Was that not evident in the fact that I was tracking your father the whole time?"

"Carter…"

"Look, I'm in town. I'm somewhat back in my parent's good graces. I'm not leaving anytime soon. So…I'm here if you want to talk, Serena."

Another long pause. "Blair?" she asked weakly.

"Not good. She chugged a bunch of martinis before crying on my shoulder. I wasn't aware she _could _cry," Carter replied solemnly.

"She's got a lot going on right now," Serena replied.

Carter heard the lack of conviction in her voice. "I know about Louis, Serena. She told me."

"What?!"

Carter shrugged even though Serena couldn't see it. "Many martinis, remember?

Serena exhaled deeply. "Do you want to come over, Carter?"

Carter smiled inadvertently. "I'd love to."

Xoxo.

Chuck had carried Blair back to his penthouse and laid her down on his bed. He had laid down beside her, watching her breathe as he propped his head up with his hand, the moonlight highlighting the narrow planes of her face. Hours later, he was still watching as she slept. _What are you doing, Blair?_

Blair stirred in sleep, trembling softly. "No," she whispered, her voice frightened. "No, no, no…"

Chuck felt nausea roil in his gut at the cries she emitted in her sleep "Blair, wake up. Blair!" He reached out to touch her and he could feel her sweating beneath his fingertips. He moved closer to her and gently threw an arm around her waist. He kissed the nape of her neck gently and whispered into it, "I'm here, Blair, wake up."

Blair shuddered next to him with a gasp and a few shaky breaths. "Chuck?" she asked into the darkness, her voice quiet and clearly frightened.

"I'm right here," he replied. "Nightmare?"

"Yes," she responded quietly. "I feel sick, Chuck."

Chuck tensed, knowing exactly what that meant. Exactly what happened the last time she was sick. "Can you hang on for a little bit? I've got something that'll make you feel better." Chuck felt her nod weakly and rose from the bed to go his kitchen to make her his secret hangover cure.

Throwing the tried-and-true ingredients together and blending them up, the result was a light green smoothie-like drink. He was walked back into the bedroom and handed it to her. "Drink," he ordered, sitting back down on the bed next to her.

Blair downed the drink, wincing the whole way. "That's disgusting," she muttered.

"But effective," Chuck returned as he studied her.

"What?" she asked irritably after a moment, having noticed that Chuck was watching her intently. The nausea had faded slightly, but wasn't completely gone yet.

"Last night –"

"What about it?" she shot back quickly.

Chuck closed his eyes and leaned back into the headboard, furrowing his brow, trying to find the words to say. "What happened last night?" he asked lamely. He knew it was a pathetic question; he knew exactly _what _had happened last night, but what he really wanted to know was the _why. _He wasn't sure _why_ he couldn't ask the why.

"You rejected me. I was embarrassed. I left," she answered after a moment. "I just needed an escape," she added, more quietly now.

Chuck turned on his side to face her, draping his arm across her stomach. Sighing deeply, he replied, "I didn't reject you, Blair."

"I threw myself at you and you said 'stop.' That's rejection if I've ever seen it," Blair replied cruelly, removing Chuck's arm. "And I dated Nate. I'm pretty familiar with it."

Chuck simply moved closer and returned his arm to its position on her stomach. "Stop it. Just listen to me," he demanded.

"You're bossy today, Bass," she retorted.

"Will you listen to me or not?" Chuck replied, feeling himself growing more irritated with her by the second.

Blair stilled next to him, noticing the irritation evident in his voice. "Yes," she replied quietly. The last thing she wanted to do was make him angry. _Bad things happen when they get angry, _she thought to herself. _No, but not Chuck, _she mentally corrected herself

"You have a broken rib and a fractured rib, Blair. You just had surgery, albeit minor, but still surgery nonetheless. I'm not going to have sex with you when you're hurt, I can't," he started quietly. "I won't. If you want to tell yourself that I'm rejecting you, fine. But I'm not. Furthermore, you told me you needed time. I'm trying to give that to you, even though…" he trailed off.

"Even though, what?" she asked, after Chuck didn't continue after a few moments.

"Being this close to you without being able to touch you is absolute torture," he finished after another moment of silence. "All I want…is to be with you, to touch you. But we can't do _that_ right now. I know you know that."

A small smile lit up her face. "So…you do want me?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

"More than anything," he answered seriously.

"Chuck Bass, saying 'no' to sex, never thought I'd see the day," Blair said with a slight smirk.

Chuck smirked back at her. "Only for you, baby."

Blair wrinkled her nose at him, and put her hand on his chest, pushing him away gently. "I hate when you smarm."

"And I hate when you lie," he responded, inching ever closer to her. His gaze met hers and the words stopped, the game stopped. All Chuck could see were her beautiful, tortured brown eyes staring back into his, and for the first time in a long time, he saw a trace of happiness in them. It was faint, but it was there. Those eyes softened him, as they always did. "I just want you to be happy, Waldorf."

"I am happy," she responded weakly.

_No, you aren't_, he thought to himself, though he simply nodded at her. That was a conversation for another day. "When you're healed, and you're ready. Tell me, and I'm all yours," he replied instead.

"All yours?" she asked with a tilt of her head, a curl falling over her face.

"Yes, Blair," he answered back. "All yours."

A full smile, one that finally reached her eyes, crossed her face. "Okay," she said softly. "I feel better now. Your disgusting drink really is effective."

"I told you," he smiled back at her.

Silence settled around them, and they simply stared at each other, their eyes speaking words that couldn't be said in the moment, boring into each other, each one of them searching for answers in the other. There were no answers to be found that night, they knew. They were just two broken people, in a _perfect _world that had cracked and then shattered around them. They laid like that for a long time, her chocolate eyes staring right into his whiskey eyes. The sun was rising around them as Chuck pulled her closer to him. The night felt safe to him - in the night, it was just the two of them. Blair and Chuck. Chuck and Blair. During the daylight there were questions, obligations, other people. It was hard for him, and he knew it was even harder for her. "Chuck?" she asked, cutting through their comfortable silence.

"Yes?" he mumbled into her hair.

"What are you sorry for?"

"What?" he responded, caught off guard.

"The other night…you came to bed late and very drunk. You thought I was asleep, but I wasn't. You said you were sorry. Why?"

Chuck sighed, lacing his fingers with hers. "I told you to be with Louis."

"We've talked about this. That's not your fault. Stop," she responded, squeezing his hand.

He gave her small smile. "I know. That's not the only thing I'm sorry for."

"What, then?" she asked, cocking her head in confusion.

"I never fought for you. Ever. Not really. And I should have. I've always felt like the last option when it came to you. I always felt like the consolation prize. So, I never fought for you. If I would've fought for you…"

"Stop it, Chuck," Blair whispered.

"I should've fought for you, Blair. Just a little bit harder. You've treated me like shit…But I should've fought a little bit harder."

Blair flinched at his words. "If you feel like that, why would you fight for me at all?" she whispered.

Chuck kissed her lips gently. "Because I love you, and you're worth it."

"I'm really not."

"When did you become me, Waldorf?" Chuck asked her coolly, hoping she wouldn't notice the panic building in him. Her eyes flashed and he understood immediately. "Whatever he said to you, don't believe it."

"That's hard when it's been drilled into your brain. It's like…every breath I take, I think to myself 'remember, you are garbage.' It's hard to get away from that."

Chuck tensed and tightened his hold on her instinctively until Blair winced under his touched. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Did he really say that to you?"

"One of the many things he said. You know, at a certain point, I started to believe him. I _believed _him."

"Well he's wrong. He's the one who's garbage," Chuck growled. "You know what I think?"

"What?" Blair whispered back."

"You're amazing."

"Chuck Bass, a romantic. Who knew?" she said quietly.

"You've always known," he replied, kissing her forehead. "Sleep now."

Blair nodded and closed her eyes. _You're amazing._ His words repeated over and over again until sleep finally found her.

Xoxo.

They were awoken the next morning by the incessant ringing of Blair's cell phone. Chuck groaned as she looked at the screen. She didn't recognize number, and panic shot through her. She hadn't even looked through the texts she had received, one of which, she recalled, was from an unfamiliar number. _What if it's Louis?_ Her panic began to grow tenfold. "Chuck?"

"What?" he groaned.

"I don't know the number. Answer it for me?" she pleaded.

Chuck immediately rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and glared at Blair before answering her phone. "Blair Waldorf's phone," he grumbled, still half asleep.

"Charles?" Eleanor's voice shocked him completely awake.

"Mrs. Rose, so good to hear from you," he replied, stuttering.

"Why are you answering my daughter's phone? Where is she?"

_Lie, lie, lie. _"Dorota ordered hyacinths instead of hydrangeas. I'm sure Dorota is getting an earful right now."

Blair smirked at his excuse, knowing she had said the same thing to Serena recently. They were so much alike. They _fit._

"So, you're with my daughter at 7am because of flowers?" Eleanor replied, suspicion coating every word.

_Bad lie._ _Fuck. I hate mornings._

Chuck rose his free hand to signal his distress and Blair understood immediately. She grabbed the phone from him and put it on speaker. "Mother?"

"Blair, darling. What is going on?"

"A lot. You would know that if you were ever here."

"Blair? Is it your condition? Talk to Louis. I'm sure he'll take you back."

"Mother, I left him!"

"Why?" Eleanor asked incredulously. "He's a prince. I know I always pushed you towards Nathaniel, but this is a match I couldn't have even planned. This marriage would open so many doors for me, and you."

Blair held back her tears, but Chuck could see them pooling in her eyes. "He hurt me, Mother," she responded quietly.

Eleanor let out an exasperated sigh. "Just apologize. He'll forgive you."

Chuck watched Blair crumble before his eyes. "He hurt me, Mother," she said again, softly, urgently.

Eleanor sounded annoyed as she answered, "I'm sure. Just apologize and make it right."

"Apologize?" she asked weakly, her voice almost quaking.

Chuck saw the tears build in Blair's eyes, as she looked down at the phone in her. All she had ever wanted was Eleanor's approval and what Eleanor was asking her to do, would destroy her. He grabbed the phone from Blair without a second thought. "Eleanor, good to hear from you again."

"Charles?"

"Indeed."

"Whatever is going on, I need you to get my daughter back to Louis this instant," she replied coldly.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Eleanor."

Chuck could hear Eleanor's frustration through the phone. "And why ever not?"

Chuck handed the phone back the Blair. "Tell her," he whispered.

"I can't," she whispered back.

"Charles? Blair?" Eleanor screeched through the phone.

"Louis hit me, Mother. He hurt me. I left him. Because he hurt me," she finally spoke, comforted by Chuck running his hand up and down her back, trying to sooth her.

"Blair, what did you do?" Eleanor asked after a long pause.

Blair's tears finally began to fall in earnest and she wrapped herself around Chuck, who took the phone back from her. "Don't call this number again, Eleanor. It was a mistake for you to even have it," he responded coldly. Chuck ended the call and placed Blair's phone on his night stand.

"Don't listen to her, ok?" he said, wrapping himself around Blair in return.

"It's my fault," she said quietly.

"No. No, it isn't."

Blair simply shook her head at his protestations. "It's my fault."

"What is your fault, Blair?" His voice was strangled.

"Everything," she whispered, moving away from him. "I'm certain that my mother will be on the first flight out to New York shortly and I should leave, to prepare for her arrival." Her voice was suddenly flat, robotic. She was devoid of any passion, just as she was when she had put on her mask, so she could be the perfect society darling she had always wanted to be.

Chuck shook his head. "Don't push me away, Blair. Not now," he felt himself pleading, and he reached for her hand, holding it like it was his lifeline, trying to pull the Blair he knew back to him, _his _Blair. The Blair who stood in front of him was someone else entirely – cold, calculating, forming poisonous bullets on her tongue, aimed precisely to cause maximum damage.

Blair smiled at him cruelly. "There's nothing to push away. I'm going home. Thanks for…being a shoulder to cry on. But I don't need you anymore." Bullet launched.

Chuck flinched at her words. "Blair—"

"Don't!"

"So, after everything that's happened, that's just it?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she responded.

"I said I was going to fight for you," he responded. His voice sounded empty, lost. Hurt.

"Don't. Just don't."

"Blair –"

"I'm going home, Chuck, ok?" She interrupted coldly.

Chuck dropped her hand, and nodded limply, turning his face away from her so he no longer had to look her in the eye. "Ok," he murmured.

Chuck continued to sit dejectedly on the bed as Blair quickly gathered her belongings and left him behind without a second glance.

What he didn't see were the tears freely streaming down Blair's face as she walked away from him. She wouldn't let him see.

Chuck was still for a long time after she left, the conversation playing over and over in his mind. The past few days, he had a feeling that he was watching Blair Waldorf slowly self-destruct, between taking pills to get high, her father leaving, getting drunk at Victrola with _Carter Baizen_ – he was certain that something was coming. In the end, he mused, he was simply collateral damage to her nearing explosion. Chuck closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Blair Waldorf was completely self-destructing, turning in on herself like a dying red star, but it was Chuck Bass who had been destroyed by its fiery path.


	10. Shame

**Chapter 10 – Shame**

Blair wasn't quite sure how she managed to make it back to her penthouse – it was mostly a blur of tears and confusion. But suddenly she was standing in the familiar elevator, as it ascended to the top of the building. Alone. She was alone, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. _What have I just done? _

Chuck, who had been nothing but good to her these past few days. Patient, kind, caring, and a _gentlemanly,_ words that society would scoff at if they were connected to Chuck Bass. But he allowed her to see him as he'd allowed nobody else to ever see him. Chuck Bass was a romantic. And she had just messed everything up, and she wasn't even sure _why._

_I said I would fight for you. _

Instead she had aimed an arrow at his heart and let it fly. She knew by his solemn expression, his refusal to look up at her, that she had hit the intended target spot-on. She closed her eyes to steel herself. She couldn't think about Chuck right now. She knew her mother was angry,_ disappointed,_ and her instincts were telling her that there was no way Eleanor Waldorf would let this pass without meddling. Her mother was on her way back to New York, and she had to prepare for that. As if on cue, Blair's phone chirped in her pocket. The unknown number from earlier. Her mother. _On my way to New York. Plane lands at 5:00. We have much to discuss. _Blair shivered at her mother's words. She quickly checked to see if she had any other messages, half-hoping there would be one from Chuck. No such luck. Instead there were more texts from Serena, from Nate, and all the old messages she had still neglected to open. She didn't feel like dealing with _any_ of it.

The elevator dinged to alert its sole occupant that they had reached their destination. Blair found her keycard and went to slide it into the designated slot in one quick motion, habit, before jerking her hand back. She hadn't been here since _that _night. She didn't know what she expected to find on the other side. The mess had been cleaned up, sure, but…_Stop it, Blair. You're being ridiculous. _Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to slide the keycard in, and the elevator door dinged once more, announcing to the inhabitants of the penthouse of a new arrival.

Taking one step forward, and then another, she was greeted with silence. She expected Dorota to scurry forward at any moment, but after several moments and a quick glance around, she realized Dorota wasn't here, and probably hadn't been in days. A small amount of dust was evident on the table in the foyer, and the vase was noticeably absent of any flowers. Alone. She was completely alone.

Sighing, Blair started towards the stairs with her belongings, suddenly desperate for a shower, for if nothing else than to cleanse herself of what was already starting out as a terrible day. It wasn't long before she realized that there was no possibility she could get her suitcase up the stairs by herself – the pain of simply walking up the stairs unencumbered was bad enough. Leaving the suitcase, she slowly made her way up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. The door was wide open and everything looked completely the same. Bed precisely made and turned down. Laptop lonely on the desk, a perfect stack of books on the night table. The heavy currents drawn as if someone was still sleeping, avoiding the daylight. Everything looked exactly the same, but none of it felt right. Chuck was right; this place didn't feel like her home anymore.

Blair wandered into her bathroom and started the water, turning up the heat just a little more than she usually did. She wanted to punish herself a little bit. Gingerly taking off her blouse and bra, Blair saw, for the first time, the dark purple bruise on her ribcage, and the small scar where the stitches were starting to dissolve. _Ugly. _She let her fingertips run across the bruise, and she winced lightly at the contact. _Apologize? To him? _Blair shook her head at the unwanted thoughts and turned away from the sight of herself in the mirror, shedding the rest of her clothes with her back turned away, and stepped into the steaming hot shower. She let the water run over her for a long time before washing. She washed her hair with her nails, scraping at her scalp. She exfoliated a bit too vigorously, turning her skin raw and pink. The water was near scalding but she barely felt any of it.

Finally done with her punishment, Blair stepped out of the shower and toweled off. She ran a brush through her wet locks, and applied some product to her ends. She didn't want her mother to think they were too dry. She slipped on the first negligee she could find before finding her phone. She had a few hours before her mother's plane touched down and she desperately needed to nap, if for no other reason than to escape. She sighed a dug through her purse before she found what she was looking for: the bottle of Vicodin. Popping the cap, she poured two pills into her mouth and slowed them dry. With that, she crawled under the covers of her bed and stared at the ceiling until she felt the effects of the drug. Once she felt the pain of her injuries and her emotions fade away until they just lingered in the background, she allowed her eyes to close and hoped she could get some sleep.

_An escape. _

She awoke hours later, completely groggy. She found her phone cradled against her chest, and tried not to think about the implications of that as checked the time. Just after 3 PM. It was time to start getting ready for her mother.

Blair gingerly lifted herself off the bed and made her way to her dressing table. Her hair was a mess, air-dried and matted from sleep. She made quick work of it, brushing it out and styling it in a low chignon. She didn't have the care or energy to style it any other way – she frankly could care less right now. She moved on to makeup, and decided to go for a natural look. Foundation, a bit of contouring, and some blush. Minimal eye makeup as well, a soft, shimmer brown, with a lighter shade on her inner eyelid and mascara. She darkened her eyebrows expertly with a pencil and then applied a light red lipstick to her mouth. She didn't care about any of this, if she was being honest with herself. Satisfied with her makeup, Blair moved to her closet and easily chose a mustard shift dress that fit a bit loosely and accommodated to her broken ribs more easily than a more form-fitting dress. She chose a pair diamond earrings and slid them through the holes in her lobes. She didn't even bother looking at herself in the mirror, she didn't care what she looked like.

Blair checked her phone again. 4 PM. She had done her routine in half the time it nearly took. One more hour until her mother's plane touched down. The anxiety rose in her belly and she grabbed the bottle of Vicodin once again from her bag. One pill would help her with her anxiety, she reasoned, as she downed the pill. Satisfied, she made her way slowly down the stairs and sat down to wait for her mother in the penthouse's formal living room. She sat down stiffly, primly, with her hands crossed demurely in her lap. Forcing her mind blank, she sat patiently, and waited.

At 5:30 promptly, Blair heard the elevator ding, and the flustered click-clack of high heels against the marble of the foyer. "Blair?" Eleanor Waldorf's floated through the silent penthouse.

"In here, Mother," Blair forced herself to answer neutrally.

The click-clack of Eleanor's heels turned and they came closer as she made her way to where Blair was sitting. "Blair!" Eleanor huffed.

Blair met her mother's eyes. "Hello, Mother," she responded quietly.

"What _is _going on? I've been trying to reach you for days! I had to call all of your friends to make sure you weren't in a _morgue _somewhere. And then I find out you're with _Charles Bass,_" Eleanor sneered, "and you've left the _prince_? Explain this, young lady, instantly."

"I told you, Mother. I left him. He hurt me."

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Please, Blair. He's a mild-mannered prince. Stop making excuses. Tell me what happened."

Blair locked her gaze with her mother's. "I have a broken rib. I'm now missing a spleen. A missing organ means I'm down a few pounds," she said quietly. Before Blair even knew what was happening, she felt the sting as her mother slapped her across the face. Blair flinched, and felt her eyes fill with tears, but she choked them back. This wasn't the first time her mother had struck her, but now it felt different. It felt like a violation.

"Stop being so dramatic, Blair," Eleanor answered haughtily.

"I'm not being dramatic, I'm telling you the truth, Mother," Blair said simply.

Eleanor rolled her eyes at her daughter, completely disbelieving, or otherwise uncaring. "Well, we are going to fix this, Blair Cornelia Waldorf, whatever it is you've done. When Louis gets here—"

"What?" Blair replied, horrified.

"Louis, he's on his way, and we're all going to sit down and have a chat," Eleanor replied, clearly proud of herself.

"No." Blair felt the blood drain from her face and into her ears, burning hot against her temples. Her vision shifted and she could hear her heart pump in her skull. It was too fast, much too fast, and she could feel a weight on her chest, crushing her preventing her from breathing.

"Blair?" Eleanor questioned, impatient.

"No!" Blair shouted, rising from her spot on her couch.

Moving quickly, she did the only thing she could do: She ran. Upstairs, ignoring the shooting pain in her ribs as she did so, and into her bedroom, locking the door and leaning a chair up against it for good measure, before grabbing her phone and into her closet, closing the door. Without a thought, she pulled out her phone and pressed the 1 on her speed dial. Several rings later, she was sure he wasn't going to answer and she felt the fat, salty tears slide down her face. On the seventh ring, he answered the phone, but didn't speak. "Chuck? Are you there?" she asked quietly, her voice wavering.

"Yes," he replied.

"Chuck," she started before pausing.

"Yes," he said once more. It wasn't a question, his voice on the other end of the phone was flat, disaffected.

"I didn't know who else to call," she admitted, quietly. She heard herself wail slightly at the end of her sentence and felt slightly disgusted with herself.

"Blair?" he asked quietly, softening towards her slightly.

"I need your help," she sobbed. _As if you even deserve it now._

"What do you need?"

"I need to get out of here," she cried.

"Where are you?"

"At the penthouse. My mother…She…Louis is on his way," she sobbed. She was met with complete silence. "Chuck?"

"I'm on my way. Where are you?"

"My closet," she whispered. Who was this Blair Waldorf who hid in her closet? She certainly didn't know her.

"Stay there," he ordered.

"I will."

"Be there soon," he said, before hanging up the phone.

Without the sound of his voice, she felt herself completely lose control, tears streaming down her face, a loud sob coming from the back of her throat. The sound was muffled through the closed door of her closet, but Blair distinctly heard a knock at her door. "Blair. Stop the hysterics. Louis is here. We need to chat."

At her mother's words, Blair curled into herself, ignoring the pain in her side. "No," she whispered, knowing that there was no possible way for her mother to hear her. _No, no, no, no._

"Blair?" _Bleh_. "It's me. I think your mother's right, we should all talk. I've tried to reach you."

_No, no, no, no, no._

Blair closed her eyes and tried to be unhearing. Eventually their voices faded away, but Blair wasn't sure if it was because she had succeeded in her task or because they actually left. She welcomed the silence now. The noise was much more suffocating than the silence had ever been. Her breathing evened out at the silence, but a breath caught in her throat when she felt another knock at the door. "Blair, it's me." _Him._

Blair dragged herself up and flung her closet door open, pushed the chair away and unlocked the door for him, opening it to let him in. Without a word, he slipped inside and locked it back, noticing the chair she had moved away, he leaned it back against the door. He didn't speak, he didn't move towards her, but just stood there with his heavy-lidded eyes, not meeting hers.

"Chuck," she whispered.

Chuck looked up, but his eyes were looking away from hers. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

"Are they still here?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Probably right outside. They followed me up here. Eleanor is not pleased that I'm here."

"I don't want to see him," she whispered.

His eyes finally met hers. "I won't let anything happen to you," he said darkly, before his eyes once again slid away from hers.

"Ok." Blair grabbed her bag and Chuck offered her his hand, and she gratefully took it. She was surprised when he laced his fingers through hers and she felt mildly comforted.

"Come on, just follow me," he urged her.

Blair nodded towards the door, in affirmation that she was ready.

Chuck slid the chair away from the door and unlocked it, pulling it open. Eleanor and Louis were waiting impatiently on the other side, looks of fury on both of their faces. Chuck jerked Blair's hand and she found herself flush against his back. "Move, both of you," Chuck demanded quietly. Deadly.

"This is my house, Charles. How dare you," Eleanor responded.

"I said _move_," Chuck replied, ignoring Eleanor completely. "She doesn't want to be here, so we're leaving. Now, _move."_

Blair couldn't see what was happening beyond Chuck's form, and she didn't want to see. But she felt Chuck moving so she followed. She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his back. She didn't want to look at her mother, and she certainly didn't want to look at Louis. She felt a hand on her elbow as they walked and knew in an instant that it belonged to Louis. "No!" she yelled, shrugging him off.

Blair felt herself being pushed back, Chuck placing himself in front of her like a human shield. "Was I not clear the last time, Louis?" Blair heard Chuck say, voice dripping venom. "Don't _fucking _touch her." Chuck turned around so he was now facing Blair's back and gently pushed her forward. "Come on."

Blair walked forward at his request, and once again made herself down the stairs. _This cannot be good for broken ribs. _Finally, they made their way to the elevator, and Chuck pressed the 'down' button. It took too long for the elevator to come, and Blair could tell Eleanor and Louis had come down the stairs by the way Chuck turned to block her view. Eventually the elevator came, and Chuck pulled her inside. They rode down the lobby in silence, their hands still entwined. Tears falling down Blair's already puffy, tear-stained face.

The elevator dinged once they made it to the lobby, and Chuck led her through, to the glass doors that were held open for them. He led her to his waiting limo, and opened the door for her, dropping her hand in the process. Blair settled into her usual seat and exhaled shakily, as Chuck stepped in and took a seat on the opposite side, far away from her. Her heart clenched. They rode in complete silence, Chuck staring out the windows as they drove, taking periodic sips from a flask he produced from the inside of his coat. Finally, she broke the silence, "Chuck."

Chuck didn't look at her. He merely lifted a hand to halt whatever she was going to say. "Don't." He sounded tired, defeated.

"Chuck," she tried again.

"I said don't," he responded, a low growl. He was suddenly fascinated by the sight outside the window of his limo, a view he knew all too well.

"Thank you," she said instead.

Chuck took a large swig from his flask. "You called. I didn't have much of a choice."

"You had a choice," she said quietly.

"No, I really didn't," he replied flatly, clearly wanting the conversation to be over.

Blair rose and sat next to him. His eyes flickered to her face before returning to the window. She could tell he had been drinking. "Chuck," she whispered. "Look at me."

"I can't."

"Try?"

"No."

"Chuck—"

"Blair, I can't. Stop. You needed my help, so I helped. That's it," he said, leaning his head back against the headrest of his seat, closing his eyes. "Please, just leave me alone," he added quietly.

Blair's heart sunk in her chest. It hurt, even knowing she completely deserved it. "I'm sorry," she whispered back.

Chuck didn't respond, and she was convinced that he had fallen asleep when the limo stopped in front of The Empire and he promptly sat up and pushed the door open before stepping out. He held the door for her and she climbed out as well. She felt a rush of familiarity, a sense of home. This was her home, not the penthouse she had grown up in. _Too bad_ _you ruined that_, she thought to herself.

More silence as he led her to the elevator and pressed the button for his penthouse. She was surprised and shot a look at him. "Your own suit tomorrow or Serena's. I'll take the couch."

"Chuck."

"Stop!" he shouted.

She flinched at his tone. "Ok. I'm sorry," she whispered.

After a moment, he spoke, calmer now, "I don't mean to yell. I don't want to scare you. I just don't want to talk anymore. I don't want to be around you right now."

She nodded and felt fresh tears build behind her eyes. "Ok."

The elevator opened to his penthouse and he stepped inside, leaving her behind. Meekly, she followed. Hours ago, his penthouse had felt like her home, her oasis. Now she was a stranger. And the only person she had to blame was herself.

Chuck had already thrown himself down on the couch, a glass of scotch in hand. She couldn't push him anymore tonight, she knew, so she made her way to his bedroom and softly closed the doors behind her before sliding into his bed, still dressed. Her phone chirped and she saw a text from her mother. _Come back. We all need to talk._

_No,_ she texted back immediately.

She scrolled through her other texts. Nate, asking when he could see her. How he missed her. How he hoped she was ok, text me when you get a chance! Serena, asking how are you doing, B? Oh my god, have you seen the latest issue of Vogue? B, I have news! Call me! From the unknown number: _Miss you, baby. _She felt the bile rise in her throat and she couldn't help it. She rushed to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl.

She sat back as another wave of nausea rolled through her and she tried to stifle it, but couldn't. She leaned over the toilet again as she dry-heaved, crying into the porcelain bowl. She felt a hand around her shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?" Chuck was finally looking at her, his eyes slightly bleary, worried. But there was also unbridled anger.

"I—I didn't mean to." She handed him her phone with Louis' text still visible. "I didn't mean to," she whispered again.

Chuck read the text and nodded. When he looked at her again, the anger had disappeared. He pulled her up. "Come on, you need to lie down."

She nodded. Suddenly she was exhausted. Chuck led her to his bed and helped her into it, tucking the covers around her. "Sleep, ok?" he said gently.

"Stay with me," she pleaded, as she heard him move away from her.

"I can't."

Exhausted, she burst into tears. Ugly, tearing sobs, sobs that seemed to come directly from her core. She couldn't control them, couldn't stop them. She cried so hard her ribs were on fire. She wanted to stop, but her sobs, so often held in, had taken on a life of their own and wouldn't be stopped. She didn't feel the dip in the bed as Chuck laid next to her, but she did feel his arms as they wrapped around her. "Please?" she sobbed.

"I'll stay," he said quietly.

Xoxo.

He didn't know why he even answered the phone. He had been drinking scotch for several hours, trying to forget her – _like that's ever worked before_ – when her name had come across his phone. He considered ignoring her - but despite everything, he couldn't. So, he answered, but he wouldn't be the first to speak. He wouldn't give her that power. He, of course, immediately heard her sobbing on the other end. He knew something was wrong the moment she said his name the first time.

She was in her closet. Hiding in her closet. Blair Waldorf never hid, but at that moment, she was cowering in her closet and there was no way he could say 'no' to her. She was scared, and as hurt as he was, she didn't deserve to be ambushed by her mother and Louis. He helped her without a thought, held her hand without a thought – It had only been a few hours, but dammit, he missed her. He burst into the Waldorf penthouse like he belonged there, Eleanor and Louis too surprised to even move. He glared at both before making his way to Blair's room. They both followed him, and he was disgusted. They wanted to put her in this perfect box she didn't belong in. They wanted to hurt her. So, he had to save her. As good, as _right_, as her hand felt in his, he remembered her cruel words from hours before and dropped it as soon as the limo was in sight. And he had to be away from her. Away from her scent, her words - but her _tears._ The tears he really couldn't handle.

When he found her in his bathroom, he was convinced she was making herself sick, and he was _furious _with her. When he asked, she said she hadn't meant to and he didn't believe her. When she motioned to her phone, he read the text message. The second time she said it, he believed her. The text made him nauseous, too. _How does he even have her number now?_

She begged him to stay with her and he said no. And he really did mean it. But her tears, being ambushed by both Eleanor and Louis, and the fact Louis even _had _her new number – he couldn't leave her. So, he told her he'd stay, and slid in next to her, and held her close. He loved her. He always had, and he knew he always would.

So, he stayed, even though it hurt.

Xoxo.

Blair woke up the next morning to a pounding head and puffy, itchy eyes. She needed an aspirin. _Or a Vicodin. _She moved quickly, too quickly, and groaned at the pain in her ribs. She just needed a damn Vicodin. "Fuck," she whispered.

Chuck stirred beside her. "Blair?"

Blair was surprised he actually stayed. "Hurts," she whispered.

He nodded in understanding. "Where?" he asked.

"My bag. Two, please."

Chuck found her bag and dug the bottle out, and popping the cap off, he selected one pill. "You get one."

"Two," she argued.

"That's not what your prescription says."

"Since when do you care about what the prescription says? I know how much Adderall you've bought over the years."

"I care because it's you. That's me, not you," he replied harshly.

"So, you're allowed to kill yourself, but I'm not?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's not very fair, now is it?"

"Maybe not fair, but it's different," he replied. "You get _one._ And based on how massive your pupils were last night, I'm being too generous."

"How-?" He hadn't even _looked _at her last night. Had he?

"I'm Chuck Bass."

"I just wanted to sleep," she explained. "Then, I had to be calm for Eleanor. She didn't believe me, Chuck. She slapped me." She winced at the memory.

Chuck simply nodded, inwardly flinching at the idea of Eleanor striking Blair after everything else, and pressed the pill into her hand and handed her a glass of water.

Blair glared at but swallowed the pill anyways, chugging the rest of the glass water quickly, suddenly noticing how dry her mouth was. And how Chuck Bass still wasn't looking at her. "Chuck," she began.

"Do you want a suite here or do you want me to call Serena?" he responded instead.

Blair felt her heart fall. "I want to stay here," she said quietly, honestly.

Chuck nodded. "I'll make a call, find you something suitable."

"That's not what I meant."

Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, furrowing his brow. Blair's heart twinged when she realized how beautiful he looked in this moment – frustrated, conflicted, but still beautiful. She also knew what he was about to say was going to hurt.

"I know. But that's not a good idea."

"Chuck, what I said yesterday…It was a mistake. I didn't mean it," Blair insisted, knowing that if she could explain her words away, the reasons, that he would forgive her. They had both made so many mistakes, and said so many horrible words to each other, she reasoned. He would forgive her, she knew it.

Chuck's eyes snapped open and for the first time since yesterday morning he met her eyes for longer than a few seconds. "You don't even understand that it's not even about what you said yesterday. This is what you do to me _every single time, _Blair."

"What?" she asked weakly, dumbstruck.

"I told you. You always pick me last, I am always the consolation prize. And I _always _choose you first. You pushed me away and ran straight to your mother, even after that _fucking_ conversation, because you still want that fairytale life, where you're the perfect Upper East Side Princess, and I have never and _will _never fit into that fairytale. You're always going to choose me last, Blair," he finished sadly.

"Chuck, no—"

He interrupted her, "You told me you didn't need me anymore."

"I didn't mean—"

"I don't care, Blair. I'm tired of you choosing me last. It's not fair to me, but the person you're being really unfair to is yourself and you can't even grasp that."

Blair felt tears well in her eyes and she nodded because he was absolutely right. "Oh," was all she could manage.

Chuck's gaze pulled away from hers and he stood stiffly. "I'll make a call, find you a room," he said, his voice completely flat.

Blair shook her head as she willed her tears to disappear. "No, don't. I'll call Serena. I'll go stay with her," she said in a near whisper.

"Alright."

"You were wrong, you know," she said after a moment of silence.

"About what?" He was tired. He was a man tired of fighting.

"You did fight for me, Chuck. From the moment you realized something was wrong, you fought for me."

Chuck nodded solemnly, and a sad smile flittered across his face. "I guess you're right."

"I'll call Serena. Then I'll leave, ok?"

Chuck didn't acknowledge her, just opened the French doors of his bedroom, closing them behind him to give her privacy, and she was grateful, because she couldn't hold back all of her tears anymore. She needed to let a few fall, just a few. Wiping the tears from her still-puffy face, she called Serena.

"B!" Serena's ecstatic voice burst through the phone after a few rings.

Blair tried to compose herself to match the blonde's mood. "Hey, S!" It was enough to fool Serena.

"Oh my god, B! I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever! How are you?"

"Doing alright, S. Listen, I was wondering if I could come and stay with you for a while?" Blair didn't want to deal with Serena's inane small talk. She needed to get right to the point so she could get off the phone.

There was a pause from Serena's end, before the blond responded, obviously confused. "I thought you were staying with Chuck?"

"Oh, I was, but I think it would be better if I stayed with you," she lied easily.

"Did he hurt you?" Serena demanded.

_No, I hurt him. _Blair forced a chuckle instead. "No, nothing like that. I just feel bad that Chuck has to sleep on the couch every night."

"Oh, ok! Sure! I'd love to have you come stay here! It'll be just like old times, B!"

_Just like old times. _"Yeah, of course. Old times. Is it ok if I come today?"

"Of course! I'm out right now. Oh my god, I have the _best _news to tell you, B. I can't wait."

Just like old times: Serena being blissfully unaware of anything but herself. "Oh, that's so great, Serena. I'll be over in a bit with my things. Can't wait to see you!" Blair hung up the phone as quickly as possible – she couldn't deal with Serena much longer. _How are you going to even live with _that? She had absolutely no idea.

She dragged herself from the bed and grabbed her bag – the only thing she had with her, and left Chuck's room. She found Chuck sitting on the couch, a glass of scotch in his hand. He swirled the amber liquid around the glass as he stared down at it, clearly deep in contemplation. Blair sat down next to him, making sure to leave at least a foot between them. She saw his eyes flicker in her direction, but he didn't look up. "I'm going to go stay with Serena," she said quietly.

Chuck gave a jerky nod and took a gulp of his scotch.

She realized she wasn't going to get anything else out of him, so she stood and gently squeezed his shoulder before moving towards the door of his penthouse. Before she even made it to the door, the scent of scotch, cologne, sweat, and _Chuck _enveloped her and he had his arms around her, pulling her gently to him. He buried his face in her hair and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Chuck held her like that for a few minutes, and then as suddenly as he had wrapped his arms around her, he was gone, and Blair heard the soft click as Chuck retreated into his room, alone.

Xoxo.

Blair had only been in Serena's apartment a few times since she had moved out of the penthouse, but it immediately screamed, "Serena van der Woodsen definitely lives here!" There was a distinct boho-chic element about the place, but Blair's expert eye could tell that everything was insanely expensive. Smooth, dark, hardwood floors, covered partially by an area rug of flowers in blues, greens and yellows. A cream sofa, yellow curtains. A van Gogh hung on one wall – Serena had always been a fan of the post-Impressionists, with the haphazard use of paint, the inherent expression, arbitrary color choices, it was no surprise, really – and another wall was full of vintage mirrors, different shapes and sizes. Serena really was that vain - she needed mirrors everywhere she went.

Blair made her way to the vacant guest room and threw her bag unceremoniously on the ground. She didn't care how much it costed, she was basically homeless. She didn't want to be her, she didn't want to deal with Serena. She didn't want to pretend to be happy when she most decidedly was not. She laid down on the bed – _her _bed – and stared up at the white ceiling blankly and felt the tears roll down her cheeks. She was so, so tired of crying.

"B!" Serena shouted as she slammed the front door to her apartment.

Blair wiped the tears away from her face and did her best at putting her mask in place. "In here, S!" she called after she had pulled herself together.

Serena burst through the door of Blair's room and jumped on the bed, jostling Blair and her broken ribs. Serena saw her wince. "Oh, my god, B! I'm so sorry! I didn't even think…"

_You never do. _"It's ok, S."

"Blair, oh my god, you won't believe the news I have for you!"

Blair smiled tightly back at her best friend. "What is it, Serena?"

"Carter," her best replied, a huge smile lighting up her face. "He called me a few days ago…and it's just been amazing, B. I'm so happy."

"I'm happy for you, Serena," Blair responded automatically.

"You sound less than enthused," Serena accused.

"I'm tired, Serena, okay?"

"You aren't happy for me?" Serena pouted.

"I'm happy for you, Serena." Blair raised her voice an octave to feign happiness.

Serena bought it and wrapped her arms around Blair. "Oh, B, I'm so happy," she squealed.

"I'm so happy for you, S." She was so, so exhausted.

"So, B, what's up with you?" Serena asked.

Blair looked at her for a long moment. "What do you mean?"

"What have you been up to?" Serena encouraged.

Blair blinked once, then twice. "I just got out of the hospital, Serena. I haven't been up to much of anything."

Serena blanched at Blair's response. "B—"

"I haven't been to any restaurant or club openings, I don't have a new boyfriend. Moving hurts, _living _hurts. So that's what I've been up to. I'm so glad you're happy. But I'm absolutely miserable, _S._"

"Blair, I'm sorry."

"I just want to sleep, ok? I'm tired," Blair replied, somewhat apologetically, even though she internally screaming.

"Ok, B," Serena replied softly.

Blair felt the weight on the bed lift as Serena left, and Blair also felt the weight of talking to her best friend lift from her shoulders. She wanted the silence. Just the silence. She rose from the bed and found the bottle of pills and swallowed three. They would help her find the silence again.

Xoxo.

He was sitting on their – _his – _bed, glass of scotch in hand, thinking, when his phone started to ring. _Serena van der Woodsen_. "Hello, Sis. To what do I owe this pleasure?" he drawled, answering the phone.

"What's wrong with Blair?" she demanded immediately.

Chuck flinched. "You'll have to be more specific, sis. A lot has happened."

"I know that, Chuck. But she seems…so sad. She didn't seem sad before. Hurt, sure. Unsure, yes. But sad? I've never seen her this _sad _before."

_Because you never paid attention. _"I don't know, Serena."

"I'm not as dumb as you both think I am, Chuck. Something happened between you two. She was crying when I got home."

Chuck sighed into the phone. "Just watch her with the Vicodin, ok? She needs you right now."

"I can't—"

"Serena, think about someone other than yourself for once."

"She needs you, Chuck. Not me," she protested.

"I can't right now, Serena," he forced. "I love her, but I can't."

"Why?" Serena asked earnestly. "With Carter and I, it's so easy…"

"You want to know what's wrong with her?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"You're happy with Baizen and you're rubbing it in her face."

"I didn't even—"

"Think, I know." _Jesus Christ, Serena. Fucking think, for _once_._

"Just be there for her, Serena." A long pause ensued before he continued, "I think she's self-destructing," he finished quietly.

So, what? You just _abandon_ her, Chuck?" Serena exclaimed.

Chuck sat up in their – his – bed and shook his head furiously, even knowing that Serena couldn't see him. "I'm not _abandoning _her, Serena. I just…." he faltered. "I just can't right now."

"Chuck?" Serena's voice softened on the other end of the phone.

"Look, I really don't want to talk about it, Serena – now, or ever. Just be there for your best friend. That's kind of the whole point, is it not, Sis?" he shot back at her with irritation. He really didn't want to have a heart-to-heart with the clueless Serena.

"Fine," she responded with annoyance.

"Call me if you need anything."

"Bye, Chuck," she replied in a huff.

Chuck ended the call and threw his phone onto the empty side of the bed. He glanced at her side of the bed, the slight indentation of her body on his memory foam mattress, and sighed. It had only been a few hours, but he missed her desperately. He rolled onto his side and pulled her pillow to him, taking a deep breath to inhale her scent, as if to commit it to memory.

All he wanted was her, but the way she had immediately thrown him away after a phone call from Eleanor was more than he could handle. He had to be away from her, at least for now, for his own sanity. Chuck knew he would do anything for her, give her anything, but she had been choosing him last since Constance and his heart couldn't take it anymore.

Chuck Bass had a heart, yes. Very people knew it, of course. And only one girl had ever held it – Blair Waldorf. There had been others, of course, _many _others – Eva and Raina were the only other girls who had ever really seen his heart, but they had never truly seen its depths, they only ever held Chuck Bass' heart on the surface. They were band-aids for his broken heart, when what he truly needed was stitches. They were no match, not even close.

No, Blair Waldorf was the only one. But for her, it seemed, Chuck Bass would always be last.

But all he wanted was her.


	11. Doomdays

**Chapter 11 – Doomdays**

Weeks passed and Serena van der Woodsen no longer knew what to do – not that she had ever known to begin with. Blair was quiet and sullen, barely ever leaving her bed, much less her room. Once extroverted and dedicated, vivacious and determined - Blair was a shadow of her former self. At first, Serena thought Blair was simply nursing her broken ribs, resting. But as time went on, it became clear to even the most oblivious observer that something else was going on with Blair.

Serena had finally reached her breaking point. Blair hadn't left her room in three days, and by the matted appearance of her normally perfect chocolate curls, hadn't even brushed her hair – or showered – in just as long. She quietly pushed the door open to her best friend's room and watched the steady rise and fall of Blair's chest. She was alive, at least. Barely, it seemed.

Satisfied knowing that her best friend was still breathing, Serena left the room, gently shut the door behind her and was startled to see her boyfriend behind her, his eyes dark. "Carter," she said softly, twining his fingers with his, "you scared me."

Carter smirked at her, squeezing her hands. "How is she?"

"The same," she answered solemnly. "I don't know what to do, Carter."

"You and I both know what you need to do," he responded.

"I don't know what happened between her and Chuck, Carter. What if –"

Carter interrupted her, "Whatever happened between them, you know he'd at least want to know how she is. Has she talked to him? Have you?"

Serena bit her lip. "I don't know who she's talked to, at all. I've talked to him a few times. He asks, but I tell him she's fine." Thinking of the past few weeks, how distant Blair was, she suddenly felt ashamed at her lie.

"If it was you, I'd want to know."

Serena nodded slowly. "You're right, Carter. I'll call him."

She shot her boyfriend a half-smile before dropping his hands and grabbing her phone from the pocket of her jeans. Serena walked far enough away from Carter so he couldn't overhear before she fell against the wall, sliding down until she was in a sitting position. Her thumb hovered over 'Chuck Bass' for a moment before she took a deep breath and pressed 'call.' The line rang a few times and Serena was ready to hang up when he finally answered.

"Sis," he greeted her.

"Chuck," she returned, "We need to talk."

There was a long pause on Chuck's end. "Blair?" he asked quietly.

"She's not good, Chuck."

A deep exhale through the phone. "What do you mean, Serena?"

Serena heard the anger in his voice, barely contained. "I can't get her out of bed."

"You said she was _fine,_ Serena," he growled, his voice low and threatening.

"I thought she'd snap out of it, Chuck, I swear. But she hasn't. She's not. I don't know what to do. I think you should come," she pleaded.

"On my way, _Sis,_" Chuck gritted snapped, before Serena heard him end the call.

Placing her phone next to her on the floor, face down, Serena lightly slammed her head against the wall, closing her eyes. She knew she had messed up. She should have called Chuck weeks ago.

"You alright?" Carter asked, sliding down beside her.

"I should have called him weeks ago," she said simply.

Carter said nothing, but simply took her hand and held it. "It's all going to be ok, Serena. You'll see."

He smiled at her and she smiled back before leaning in to kiss him, relieved at his comforting presence.

Xoxo.

_I can't get her out of bed._

Chuck ground his teeth together as he fidgeted impatiently in his limo, which was stuck in rush hour New York City traffic.

Serena said she was fine. Over and over. _You fucking liar._

"Is there any way around this, Arthur?" Chuck demanded.

Arthur's eyes met Chuck's in the rearview mirror. "No, Mr. Bass. I'm sorry. We're stuck."

The car had barely moved in half-an-hour. He could walk faster, he realized. "You know what, Arthur, I think I'll walk. Find a way out of this," Chuck motioned to the gridlock, "and you have the night off," he said as he opened the door to the limo, stepping onto the street and ducking around the various cars caught in the same gridlock. He made it to the sidewalk and began walking determinedly towards Serena's apartment. He could walk ten blocks, no problem.

Ten blocks later, Chuck stood in front of Serena's building, sweat beading at his hairline, slightly out of breath. The scotch and smoking clearly had done him no favors. He wiped the sweat away with the back of his hand as he walked towards the door of the building, the doorman immediately opening the door for his entrance. Chuck made his way to the elevators and slammed his finger down on the button for the 20th floor – Serena's floor.

Chuck leaned against the back of the metal of the elevator and tried to gather himself. He closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing. By the time the elevator _dinged_ at Serena's floor, he felt collected enough. He stepped from the open elevator and turned right down the hall, making his way to Serena's door. Reaching it, he allowed himself a deep breath before knocking.

The door opened almost immediately, Serena in front, with Carter Baizen right behind her.

Chuck didn't wait for an invitation inside, instead, he immediately barreled inside. "Where is she?" he demanded.

Serena didn't meet his eyes as she spoke, "Down the hall, second door on the left."

Chuck pushed past both of them and made his way down the hall, to the second door on the left. He didn't bother to knock, but simply barged in. Blair was lying in bed, eyes closed, nose turned upwards toward the ceiling. Her hands were clasped together over her chest, as if she were in a casket – it unnerved him. "Blair?" he said quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Her eyes immediately opened. "Chuck?" she whispered back.

"Hey," he replied, with a small smile.

"You're here?" she asked, clearly confused.

"I'm here," he confirmed. He took her in. He didn't see Blair Waldorf. She was paler than usual, her cheeks sunk in, her hair matted from where she laid against her pillow. Deep, dark purple circles under her slightly puffy eyes. Her pupils were dilated, huge and glittering. She was high. Chuck's heart stopped momentarily when he saw her eyes. "Waldorf?" he asked.

"Yes?" she responded, slowly.

"How many?" he asked.

"A few," she chuckled.

"Why?"

"Takes the pain away," she giggled.

"The pain's going to be there when you wake up, Waldorf. I'd know better than anyone," he said quietly.

"Oh, would you?" she asked blankly. If she hadn't been high, Chuck knew it would have come out as a sneer.

His eyes met her dilated pupils. "Do you remember when Bart died and I went to Thailand?"

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes glassy. As if she could ever forget.

"I don't remember much about it, to be honest. I shot up, I snorted, I smoked – whatever. Whatever to dull the pain. But every day, when I woke up, sobered up, the pain was there. It doesn't help, Blair."

"It helps," she countered.

Chuck nodded, relenting slightly. "Temporarily. But reality is always waiting."

"Well, I don't want to come back to reality," she responded.

Chuck felt a shot of fear run through his spine, ice cold. "I want you to," he whispered.

Her black eyes met his. "And I want you to leave. I don't want you here," she replied.

"I can't do that, Waldorf, and you know it."

"Why?"

"Because you're not ok."

"I'm _fine," _she shot back.

"Are you, Blair? Are you _really?_" Chuck asked quietly.

"I'm just tired, Chuck. I want to sleep," she said slowly.

"Great," he replied, quickly taking off his blazer, and shoes before lifting the comforter of her bed, sliding in beside her. "Then let's sleep." Chuck rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

"Chuck, what are you doing?"

"Shh, I'm sleeping."

Blair smacked his arm in frustration. "Chuck!"

Chuck caught her arm and pulled him into her, draping her arm over his belly. "Yes?"

She simply glared at him. "What _are_ you doing?" she seethed.

He opened his eyes to meet hers. "You said you wanted to sleep, so let's sleep." He pulled her in closer and once more closed his eyes.

He expected her to protest again, but instead, she curled around him, placing her head on his shoulder, facing him, the way they always slept together. Chuck turned his head slightly and opened his eyes to watch her as her breath slowed and evened out on his shoulder. A small knock at the door caused her to stir, and quickly move her head from his shoulder. Disappointment hit him at the loss of contact. He had missed her so much these past few weeks, and laying here with her had been a small reprieve from his loneliness.

"Guys?"

"Yes, Serena?" Chuck replied, irritated at his step-sister and her typical poor timing.

Serena bit her lip and moved into the room and sat on the edge of Blair's bed. "B…I'm just really worried about you."

Color flushed in Blair's cheeks, clearly embarrassed.

Chuck internally seethed. _Dammit, Serena. _

"I called Chuck because I thought he could help." Serena motioned towards Chuck.

_And I was, sis, before you barged in. _

Blair shot up in bed. "Well, thank you for your concern, Serena, but as I've told _both _of you, I am completely fine," she seethed, voice raised.

"You're not fine, B. You barely leave this room, this bed. I haven't talked to you in days, and I know you're not eating. You aren't fine," Serena responded, tears welling in her eyes.

"Can't you both just _leave me alone!"_ Blair shouted. "I'm fine and I don't need either one of you! So _leave!"_

Chuck rose from the bed, and grabbed Serena's arm, pulling her to rise. She resisted, and Chuck tugged harder. "Come on, Serena," he said quietly, practically dragging her from Blair's room. He soundly shut the door behind them before he spoke to her again, "What the _hell _is wrong with you, Serena?"

"I just…" she trailed off.

"You just _what? _You called me, remember? I would've gotten somewhere if you had given me some time. But you just couldn't resist inserting yourself, could you? Another installment of the _Serena Show_, huh?"

"Chuck, I just thought –"

"No, you never fucking think, and that is precisely the problem." Chuck grabbed her arm once more and dragged her further away from Blair's door and back into the living room where Carter was sitting on the couch.

Chuck dropped her arm and sat down in an armchair, running a hand through his wind-tousled hair. "I shouldn't have let her come here. This was a mistake."

"Chuck - " Serena began to protest.

"Shut up, Serena. I told you to keep an eye on her, and you're letting her _rot _in a room while you continue on with your life without a fucking care in the world. She needed you and you just left her all alone while you fucked Baizen," Chuck interrupted, his voice cold, hard.

"Chuck, I –"

"I said _shut up, _Serena - "

"You both know I can hear you, right?" Blair interrupted, standing at the edge of the living room, her arms folded across her body, protecting herself. She wavered slightly, as if she was slightly dizzy.

Three heads snapped up to look at her, clad only in a t-shirt and a pair of Chuck's purple silk boxers, which she must have stolen. In any other situation, Chuck would have smiled.

"I am so sick of people talking about me like I'm not here," she continued. "You know, Serena, you didn't even try to be a friend to me? You just rubbed Carter in my face every chance you got. Chuck may have kicked me out but at least he _talked_ to me, at least he _tried._

Chuck flinched at her words.

"B, I…I didn't know what to do," Serena stammered.

"Anything would have been better than pretending like nothing happened," Blair replied darkly.

"B –"

Blair raised a hand to silence Serena. "No, I'm done. I thought I could stay with my _best friend _and she would help me. But she didn't do a damn thing. You're right, I haven't left my bed in days," she started to cry, "but some days you didn't even try, Serena. What kind of friend doesn't even try?" Blair's voice broke. "I've never asked you for _anything._"

Serena was dumbstruck.

Chuck was watching Blair intensely.

Carter was very clearly uncomfortable.

Chuck rose and made his way to Blair, gently grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the scene in the living room. Tears were streaming down her face now as they walked down the hall. He opened her bedroom door and pushed her inside, closing the door behind them. "Blair, I –" he started, wiping the tears from her face with the pads of his thumbs.

"Don't!" she seethed, pushing him away, stumbling slightly. "Just leave me alone, Chuck," she whispered.

"I already told you I can't, Blair," he replied, reaching out for her again.

Her reflexes were sluggish as she attempted to swat his arm away and failing, his hand gently wrapped around her wrist. She closed her eyes at his touch. "You kicked me out, Chuck," she whispered. "I'm not your girlfriend. I'm not your responsibility, ok? So, you can go now." She refused to meet his gaze.

Chuck's grip on her wrist tightened in anger. "All of that is bullshit and you know it, Blair," he bit out.

She pulled her hand away from his with as much force as she could muster. "Stop," she pleaded. "Please just leave me alone."

"I'm worried about you, Blair," he admitted. "I don't know what you're doing, what you're thinking. I barely recognize you," he said quietly. "How do you expect me to walk away from you right now?" His dark eyes met hers, trying to read her.

There it was. That look in his eyes. The one she detested, the one that hurt. She needed another Vicodin so the _look_ would stop hurting her. "Just walk away, Chuck," she said coldly.

Chuck ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, clearly frustrated. "Goddammit, Blair. Stop this."

"Stop what?" she chuckled.

His amber eyes flashed to hers. "I get it, Blair, I do. You're mad at me because I thought it was a bad idea for you to stay with me. I get _that. _But goddammit, Blair. You know why I thought that. I have done anything and everything for you, Blair, and you threw me away like I was trash. I'm here because Serena called me, because she was worried. I was in the car as soon as she told me you weren't doing well. I got stuck in traffic on the way here and I fucking _walked _10 blocks to get here. And still…it's just not enough for you," he realized sadly. "I'm just not enough, am I?"

She couldn't find words in that moment. Her exhausted brain, addled by Vicodin and lack of food, couldn't comprehend his words. So, she stayed silent.

Chuck waited, and she didn't speak. He forced himself to nod. "Right," he said, answering his own question. He stared at her for a moment, hoping, wishing…But there was nothing. He swallowed the lump in his throat and headed for the door. He paused as his hand rested on the doorknob. "I will always be here for you," he said quietly.

More silence.

He had expected her to say something – anything. He had not expected silence, and for some reason he couldn't pinpoint, the silence hurt more. He could handle her rage, her sadness, but silence – complete indifference? He couldn't handle that. He ignored Serena and Carter, deep in conversation on the couch, as he made his way to the elevator. He stepped inside and he was thankful for the silence and the solitude the metal box provided for him. _Get away, _was all he could think.

Yes, getting away did sound quite wonderful right now. He had laid out everything for her. His regrets, the pain. It just wasn't enough. _He _just wasn't enough. _Ibiza,_ he decided as he slid into his limo. He could escape in Ibiza.

Xoxo.

Her mind was sluggish. She was normally sharp and quick-witted, always ready with a turn of phrase. The Vicodin was numbing her reflexes, her mind. When Chuck had asked if he was good enough she just stood there, mute. _You are more than enough! _Her brain screamed.

But her words never came, and he was gone. She knew she had really hurt him this time, creating another wound he would try to hide deep in his already-mangled soul. The tears came hard. She didn't realize how loudly she was sobbing until she felt a set of arms wrap around. For a moment, she thought it was Chuck.

"I'm sorry, B," Serena whispered.

Blair began to sob harder at Serena's voice. She so desperately wanted Chuck. _What is wrong with you?_

"Where's Chuck?" she sobbed into Serena's shoulder.

"He left, B," Serena said softly.

"Make him come back, Serena. I've messed up so badly," she cried.

"Calm down, B. I'll call him," Serena soothed, promptly locating her phone, and finding Chuck in her contacts.

His voicemail picked up immediately: _Charles Bass. Leave a message. _

"B…I'm sorry."

"Just leave me alone," Blair sobbed.

Serena pulled Blair into a hug. "I love you, B."

"Goodbye, Serena." Blair rolled her eyes. Of course, Serena was _now _trying to be a good friend.

As soon as Serena left her, Blair was on her phone, calling Chuck herself. _He'll pick up. I know he will. _

_Charles Bass. Leave a message. _He didn't.

"Chuck… it's me. I… I don't know what I'm doing. I'm messing everything up, and I don't know why…I love you, Chuck Bass. I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." A small sob escaped as she spoke. "Call me back, Bass, please."

Hanging up, Blair expected him to return her phone call immediately. He couldn't resist a Blair Waldorf apology without a caveat, of that she was sure. Minutes passed, and Blair felt the dread and anxiety wash over her in waves. He was done. He was ignoring her. Her apology didn't mean a thing to him – she had messed up that badly. The screen of her phone became slick as tears rolled down her face. She wasn't in control anymore, and she wasn't sure she ever would be again. She had treated Chuck horribly for years – she knew he wasn't wrong about that, as hard as it was to admit it to herself. _He's finally done. He's finally gone. I've finally lost him. _

The realization felt like a smack in the face and panic filled her. Breathing became difficult and she felt the world tilting on its axis. _Calm down. Breathe, Blair. _It was his voice in her soothing as impeding panic attack washed over. _Breathe, Blair, breathe. It's ok. It's all in your head. _

"It's all in my head," she murmured to herself, repeatedly. Chuck was the only person who knew she suffered from occasional panic attacks – Not even Serena knew. Blair hid their existence well, slipping away to a bathroom or an empty room to let the panic attack happen.

Chuck found out about them one night, three months after they had officially started dating. There was a gala for some charity neither one of them really cared about, and she had felt the panic building in her chest from the second she woke up that morning. But she had forced it down, hid it, knowing that she was only delaying - and inevitably worsening - its impending release. Chuck, of course, had noticed how nervous and quiet she was the whole night. When she felt her vision tilt and her stomach lurch, she excused herself to the restroom with a light squeeze of Chuck's hand. She knew her hands were shaking, and she knew Chuck felt it.

She was not at all surprised when he found her alone in the women's restroom moments later. She was gasping for air and trembling, grasping the porcelain of the sink for strength. She tried to wave him away, but she was dizzy and felt herself stumble at the motion. Chuck was instantly at her side, steadying her. "Baby, what's wrong?" he murmured in her ear, concern in his voice.

She forced herself to exhale a shaky breath. _In and out, in and out. _"I have these sometimes," she managed to choke out, her voice shaking.

She felt ashamed then – her panic attacks were a secret for a very good reason. If anyone found out, everyone would see her as weak, and then no one would fear Blair Waldorf. The shame only added to her current distress and she saw black pinpoints in her eyes. _Oh, this is very bad. Very, very, very bad. _Her breathing quickened and her knuckles turned white at the force of holding herself up. She felt like she was on the verge of fainting.

It was then that she felt his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest. "Calm down. Breathe, Blair," he murmured soothingly as he held her, making soothing motions down her spine. "It's ok, I promise."

She calmed slightly at the feeling of his body around hers, the scent of him. Her breathing was still harsh and erratic, but she no longer felt like she was on the verge of passing out. "Chuck," she rasped out.

"Breathe, Blair, breathe. It's ok. It's all in your head," he returned, gently stroking her hair, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

Suddenly she could breathe again. She was still shaking, and her stomach still hurt, but she could breathe, and the world wasn't shifting erratically beneath her feet anymore. She let go of the sink and turned to Chuck, wrapping herself around him, clinging to him. "Thank you," she whispered into the crook of his neck as he held her tightly.

Chuck had helped her through several more panic attacks, even after they had broken up. He was the only person who knew, and the only person who could calm her. But right now, she could feel a bad one brewing and Chuck hated her. _You're alone for this one, Waldorf. _

The world lurched and she felt nausea overcome her. She clenched her eyes shut, but she was still spinning. Gasping for air, she entwined the fingers of her hands together, squeezing them together, hoping they would bring her back to reality. She pinched the skin on her forearm, hoping for the same. None of the techniques her therapist had taught her had ever worked. Chuck and Chuck alone was the only thing that could bring her back from the edge of insanity.

_Unless_, a thought flashed through her mind. She grabbed the pill bottle on the nightstand and sifted a few pills into her hand. She didn't look, and she certainly didn't count them. She tossed them into her mouth and swallowed them with a gulp of water.

She didn't have to wait long. Her breathing evened out, and her body felt loose, light, and her panic gone. She smiled to herself lazily, lying back into the pillows of her bed. She was so comfortable, so cozy. She closed her eyes, and fell into a deep, blissful sleep.

Xoxo.

As the Bass jet landed in Ibiza, Chuck pulled his phone from his pocket and powered it back on. After a few moments, alerts flooded his phone. Several missed calls from Serena, a few from Lily, and one from Blair. Sighing, Chuck decided he would listen to her voicemail. Anything she had to say would be better than the silence he had suffered through hours earlier.

_"__Chuck… it's me. I… I don't know what I'm doing. I'm messing everything up, and I don't know why…I love you, Chuck Bass. I love you. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Call me back, Bass, please."_

He listened to her voicemail several times, his heart clenching in his chest every time._ Of course she's a confused wreck right now. You fucking idiot,_ Chuck mentally chastised himself.

"We've landed, Mr. Bass," the stewardess announced, with a huge smile.

"Tell the pilot we're going back to New York. Right now," he replied.

"Mr. Bass?" Her smile faltered a bit.

"I said right now!" he growled.

"Yes, Mr. Bass," she slinked away from him, clearly confused.

Xoxo.

It had been several hours since Blair had demanded Serena to leave her alone, but Serena couldn't resist checking on the girl she considered a sister. Chuck's words had stung, but he had been absolutely right about her treatment of Blair. So, she had decided she would be better. She couldn't lose Blair.

Serena cracked the door to Blair's room, to find Blair sleeping peacefully, her back to Serena. Serena smiled slightly, knowing then that everything would be alright. Blair would get through this. She stood there watching her best friend for a moment, suddenly feeling like something was off, wrong. _She's not breathing._

Serena realized it was a ridiculous thought, but she knew she had to check, if only to satiate her worry. "B?" she called, hoping to rise her best friend.

Silence.

She made it to the bed, and sat down next to Blair. Blair was pale, thin, and her breathing was almost nonexistent. Serena's eyes flashed to open bottle of pills on her nightstand and knew immediately. "Blair!" she screamed, tears forming in her eyes. "Blair!" she pushed her best friend's frail body with force, hoping to rouse her, but Blair didn't move.

"Serena?" Carter appeared in the doorway, having heard Serena's shouts.

"Blair won't wake up," Serena sobbed.

Carter took in the scene before him: An open bottle of pills, Blair motionless in the bed before him, Serena sobbing uncontrollably. He had been in this situation more times than he'd care to admit. "I'm calling 911."

Serena released a guttural sob.

"Yes, I have an emergency. My friend just overdosed. She's barely breathing. Please hurry."

**A/N – Stick with me. I realize the last chapter was super depressing and this one probably is, too. It's gotta get worse before it gets better! Thanks to everyone who follows or favorites. And by the way, reviews actually kinda make my day. Hope everyone is staying safe right now. And I know you have time time to review my fanfic, so don't play. Review. Make me smile.**


	12. Ricochet

**Chapter 12 – Ricochet**

Chuck was exhausted. He had flown nearly ten hours to Ibiza, and after having the jet quickly refueled, had flown another ten hours back. He had slept restlessly on the plane, torn between nightmares and a gnawing feeling in his gut. Chuck descended from the jet, once more powering on his phone. _Shit, I should've called her back. _Realizing his mistake, he promptly called her. After a few rings, he was greeted by her voicemail. "Blair, it's me. I'm sorry I missed your call… I was in the air. Running away again. But I came back. I'm messing up, too. And I'm sorry, too. Look, I'm on my way to you. I love you, Waldorf," he spoke earnestly.

Hanging up, he noticed he also had a voicemail from Lily. Chuck furrowed his brow and pressed the phone back to his ear. "Charles, call me back as soon as you get this. It's very important," she said breathlessly. She sounded nervous and tired, Chuck thought. He pressed 'call' without a second thought. Lily was the only mother he had ever known, and the most important woman in his life - after Blair.

"Charles?" she answered tenuously.

"Lily? Is everything ok? I just got your voicemail."

"Where are you, Charles?" Lily asked quietly.

"I just got off the jet. I'm in the car, going to Serena's. Why?" he asked, the gnawing feeling in his gut growing.

"Charles, I'm at Lennox Hill with Serena and Carter right now—"

Chuck interrupted her, "What? Where's Blair?" He already knew the answer, though.

"She's here, Charles. We've been here for a few hours now."

"Lily, what is going on? Why is she in the hospital? Is she alright?"

"She overdosed, Charles," Lily said quietly.

"What?" he spoke, but he didn't feel like the voice was coming from him. "I'm on my way," he continued, hanging up the phone without waiting for Lily's response.

"Arthur," he bit out. "Lennox Hill."

Arthur nodded at his employer through the rearview mirror, even though Chuck wasn't looking.

_No, no, no, no, no. _This couldn't be happening. Blair in the hospital _again. _He knew she had been self-medicating but he didn't know it was this bad…Unless. _No. She wouldn't have tried to kill herself. She wouldn't have_, he told himself, even though he was wondering if it was true, thinking of the sob he had heard in the voicemail that she had left him.

He wrestled with his thoughts all the way to the hospital, wondering if Blair had overdosed on accident or on purpose. Was she awake? Was she waiting for him? "Arthur, any way we could speed this up a bit?" he asked, thinking of Blair alone in the hospital, looking for him. Just the thought made him feel sick to his stomach.

"We're almost there, Mr. Bass," Arthur assured.

Chuck was gnawing the inside of his cheek as Arthur pulled up to Lennox Hill and he was out of the car before it even stopped fully. He paused at the entrance of the hospital, not even knowing where she was. He pulled out his phone and called Lily. "Lily, I'm here, where am I going?" he asked breathlessly.

"Fifth floor. I'll wait for you at the elevators."

Chuck hung up and quickly made his way into the hospital and to the nearest elevator. He slammed his palm against the button so hard that a few people turned to look at him, but he didn't care. He had to get to Blair. The elevator took too long, and Chuck fidgeted the entire time. Finally, the doors opened onto the fifth floor, revealing Lily, her face drawn and worn. She was dressed in loungewear and wore no makeup - she had hurried here, too, it seemed. "Where is she, Lily?" he asked immediately.

"She's alright, Charles," Lily assured him, taking his hands in her own.

"Just take me to her, Lily," he replied, trembling. Lily stared at her stepson for a long moment, and Chuck felt his impatience grow. "What, Lily?" he asked curtly.

"The doctors are wondering if she tried to kill herself, Charles. Serena told them she has no idea. Eleanor thinks she did. So, I need to ask you, Charles, what do you think?" she asked quietly.

"Eleanor?" he gaped. "Is she here?"

Lily nodded in confusion. "Of course, Charles. She's Blair's mother –"

"She can't be anywhere around Blair, Lily. I know you don't know what's going on right now, but that bitch can't be anywhere near Blair right now. And no, I don't think she tried to kill herself. I know her, Lily. I know her better than anyone. She'd fight. This was an accident, I'm almost positive." _Almost._

Lily studied him for a moment before she nodded to him. "I'll do my best with Eleanor. And I'll make sure she doesn't go to Ostroff."

"Please, Lily."

"Follow me," she said quietly, practically dragging him down the hall. "What the hell is going on, Charles?" she asked as she walked quickly. "Serena is hiding something, and you're hiding something."

"Lily, I can't talk about it right now."

Lily stopped suddenly and spun around to face Chuck. "You are my son, Charles. But I also think of Blair as a daughter. And tonight, I found out she's been in the hospital_ twice_ in two months. What happened the first time, Charles? Why did no one call me?" she demanded.

"Louis was hitting her, Lily," he spoke lowly. "The only people who knew were me and Serena, and later Harold. Then she told Carter. He broke her fucking ribs, Lily."

Lily sucked in a breath. "Eleanor…"

"What?" Chuck demanded.

"She was about to call him when I came to meet you," Lily replied, her eyes frantic.

"Of course she was," he seethed. "Take me to her, please, Lily. I have to see her. Eleanor and Louis can't come anywhere near her."

Lily grabbed Chuck's hand once more and dragged him down the hall. Reaching the end of the hall, she opened a door and pushed him inside. Blair was in the bed, her dark hair still matted, her eyelids and lips a sickly shade of blue. She was paler than he had ever seen her and much too thin. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared at her.

"Chuck?" Serena's voice dragged him back to reality. She was sitting in the corner, holding Carter's hand. Her eyes were red and puffy from hours of crying.

He glanced at Serena before deciding to ignore her completely. He knelt beside Blair's bed and took her hand in his. "I'm here, baby," he whispered, rubbing her thumb gently with his own.

"Charles," Lily's voice echoed in the quiet room. "Tell them what you told me."

"She didn't try to kill herself," he spoke quietly. "It was an accident. I am almost positive."

"Almost, Chuck?" Serena sobbed.

"Well I can't be completely sure until I talk to her, _sis. _But I'll bet money that she didn't do it on purpose. What happened?" he asked quietly.

There was a long moment of silence and Chuck began to grow impatient waiting for an explanation.

It was Carter who finally broke the silence. "Serena went to check on her and she was barely breathing. I saw the pill bottle and I just knew, so I called 911." Carter stopped for a moment, exhaling deeply. "She stopped breathing before the ambulance got there. I gave her mouth-to-mouth. They pumped her stomach. And that's basically it, Bass." Carter refused to make eye contact with Chuck as he finished.

Chuck stared at Carter for a long moment. For years, he had hated this man with a fiery passion. He had saved her. He had saved Blair. Chuck now realized he owed everything to Carter Baizen.

"Eleanor can't be anywhere near her. Lily said she was calling Louis. That can't happen. I need them both away from here," he said, still looking at Carter.

"I can handle Louis, Bass," he said rising from his seat, thankful for the opportunity to get away from Blair's room. Carter had never seen Chuck look at him with appreciation before and it was making him anxious, and slightly nauseous.

"Carter?" Serena look up at him, her eyes wide.

"I've known him for a while, Serena. I've seen some pretty _interesting _things. I may or may not have pictures," he smirked.

"They better be good. He didn't give a fuck about pictures of him and his mistress," Chuck warned.

"I have it covered," Carter stated confidently, nodding to Chuck before hastily making his exit.

Oddly enough, Chuck believed him. "I'm starting to like your boyfriend, Sis." Serena sent him a disbelieving look and he merely shrugged. "At this point I'm indebted to him. I'm curious about those pictures, though."

"Eleanor?" Serena asked.

"She didn't tell you about what happened?" he replied.

Serena shook her head. "I'm assuming it was bad? The fact that she's calling Louis says all I need to know."

"You both need to start keeping me in the loop," Lily chastised, frustrated with both her daughter and stepson.

"Well you know the gist now, Lily," Chuck replied, his voice thick with irritation. "Can I please just have some time alone with her? Please?" he begged.

Serena glanced at her mother and gave her a small nod, indicating that they should leave.

The door clicked behind them and finally he was alone with Blair. "Hey, Waldorf, they're all gone. It's just us. You can wake up now," he said, forcing a small chuckle.

She grumbled, but didn't wake.

"Please wake up, Blair. I can't handle you in the hospital. Wake up and tell me you're ok. Please. Everyone thinks you tried to kill yourself. I don't think that - I think you made a mistake. I think you took too many on accident." Chuck felt tears building in his eyes, and the feeling was unfamiliar. He was Chuck Bass, and Chuck Bass didn't cry. "Wake up and tell me I'm right," he pleaded.

"It's too early, Chuck. What?" she finally murmured, still mostly asleep

It was night but he wasn't about to correct her. "I got your message, baby."

Her eyes opened slowly and she turned to face him, slowly becoming conscious again. "Why didn't you call me back?" she asked quietly.

"I did. You've been out for a few hours, Waldorf," he replied. _I fucked up, _he thought to himself.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"The hospital."

"Why? I'm fine. My ribs are almost healed—"

"You overdosed, Blair. You almost died," Chuck replied, his voice breaking.

"What?"

"You weren't breathing," a small sob wrenched from his throat, against his volition.

"Chuck?"

"Did you try to kill yourself?" he asked quietly. He felt the tears still welling in his eyes, and forced himself to hold them back. He knew that she saw though. She always saw.

"What?" she whispered back.

"Blair. Did you try to kill yourself? Please tell me the truth," Chuck begged.

"I didn't try to kill myself, Chuck," she whispered.

"Then why, Blair?" he returned quietly.

"I felt a panic attack coming. It was going to be bad. So, I just took some…I don't know how many," she offered lamely.

Chuck merely nodded and grabbed her hand, planting kisses into her palm and into her wrist. "This has to stop, Blair," he murmured.

"I know, Chuck. I don't know what's wrong with me. My brain is a mess," she admitted quietly.

"Talk to me, Waldorf." Blair gave him a sad smile and moved towards the left side of her bed and patted the empty side of the bed, indcating for Chuck to join her. He instantly obliged, pulling her into his arms. "Talk to me, Waldorf," he requested again, having settled in next to her.

"I don't know," she started slowly. "I don't feel safe. I'm afraid all the time. I just feel like…," she trailed off.

"Like?"

"I'm just waiting for something bad to happen all the time. I'm tired all the time. I just want to sleep, and forget. And I'm sad, Chuck, and I don't even know why," she continued in a whisper, tears filling her eyes at her revelation. "You're the only thing that makes me feel even close to normal."

He squeezed her gently in his arms. "You're depressed, Blair," he said, pressing a kiss into her hair.

"Excuse me?" she scoffed, pulling away from him slightly. "Me? Depressed? I'm Blair Waldorf."

"Indeed you are—"

"Blair Waldorf does not get depressed," she interrupted.

"Waldorf, that's not exactly how it works."

"I'm honestly offended at the suggestion, Chuck," she replied, turning away from him.

"Blair -"

"No! I'm not depressed!" she exclaimed.

Chuck ignored her frustration and pulled her back into him. "It's not something to be ashamed of, Blair."

"What? So I can add it to my mental health resume? Bulimic? Check. Panic attacks? Check. Depression? No thanks," she scoffed.

"Ok, Blair." He was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. "I've never judged you for anything and I wouldn't for that either," he stated, rubbing small circles in her back.

He could tell she was falling back asleep by the slowing of her breathing, which he listened to, enraptured. That breathing had stopped earlier that day, and he had to listen, had to memorize it like a favorite melody. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard. The melody of her breathing was lulling him off to sleep, too, until Carter entered the door and slipped inside.

Chuck had been on high-alert for too many weeks and feeling a presence enter the room his eyes immediately snapped open. Seeing it was Carter, his body relaxed slightly. Chuck gently disentangled himself from Blair and walked towards the door. "What is it, Baizen?" he hissed.

"Slight bump in the road, Bass," Carter returned, seriously, opening the door and motioning for Chuck to follow him.

"How large of a bump, Baizen? I thought you said you had things covered."

"Yeah, I thought I did. Louis doesn't fucking care about what we have on him. He's sociopathic. And Eleanor is smitten," Carter responded, gravely.

"He's here?"

"I'm bribing the whole nursing staff right now. He and Eleanor can't see Blair because she's having a 'procedure' right now. You've got an hour."

"Bribing? With what money?"

"Yours, of course." Carter smirked.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do? Kidnap her?" Chuck seethed, before a realization dawned on him. "Baizen, what exactly do you have on Louis?" he asked slowly.

Carter pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled a bit before handing over the phone to Chuck.

Chuck took in the image in front of him. It was depraved, that was for certain. The room was dark, and full of scantily-clad women - many of whom were clearly prostitutes. In the middle of the frame, one of the girls was reclined back on a table, dressed only in a bra and panties. Next to her was Louis, kneeling over her, snorting a white substance off of her abdomen. "Seriously?" Chuck asked.

Carter shrugged, before taking his phone back. "I've got a few more, mostly in that same vain. That one's my favorite," he said with a smirk.

Chuck smirked back. "Send it. To Gossip Girl, Page Six. Just send it," he said, pulling out his own phone to look for the pictures he had taken of Louis and Estee. In truth, he had forgotten about them after the incident between him and Louis during Blair's first hospital trip.

Carter's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why, Bass? I just told you he doesn't care. What's the angle?"

"Come on, Baizen. You're not an idiot. Sure, he says he doesn't care. But we're going to call his bluff."

Carter's eyes lit up with realization. "What have you got, Bass?"

"Just pictures of him with his mistress. Oh, and he was recently arrested. But can you imagine the Gossip Girl blast and the royal fallout? There's no way he'll ascend the throne after all of this comes to light. Everyone will know the prince is merely a toad," Chuck answered, feeling excitement bloom in his stomach - a good scheme always excited him.

"Total destruction," Carter affirmed, quickly sending the incriminating photos to Gossip Girl. She could take if from here.

Xoxo.

Far away in Brooklyn, Dan Humphrey was lounging on the couch in his living, feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him as he reread _A Confederacy of Dunces _for the fourth time. It had been a busy week for him, and he was relieved to have a lazy day all to himself.

It was then that he heard the distinct _ping_ from the phone in his bedroom, indicating a text. He was resolved to ignore it, just for a little bit, at least - until he heard several more _pings _all in quick succession. He sighed, placing his novel down on the couch and uncrossing his feet from the coffee table, dropping them to the floor. There was no rest for the wicked, after all.

Dan made his way to his bedroom and located his burner phone, complete with several messages from Carter Baizen and Chuck Bass. _Well, this should be good._

He unlocked his phone and his jaw dropped. Several pictures of Louis Grimaldi, Prince of Monaco snorting cocaine off a scantily-clad prostitute, Louis Grimaldi very clearly having an affair, Louis Grimaldi's mugshot. It was absolutely Gossip Girl gold.

Grinning, Dan sat down and began to type out what was sure to be a historic Gossip Girl blast.

_Hey, all you Upper East Siders. Prince of Monaco or the Prince of the Depraved? I'll let you decide – after all, a picture speaks a thousand words. And I have several. Is that L snorting cocaine off a prostitute? Is that L with a mistress? Sure looks that way to me. At least he looks handsome in his mugshot. Oh, L, what did you do? Looks like L might be falling from grace – or at least off his golden throne. And where is our Queen B? A penny for your thoughts, B. _

_You know you love me, xoxo._

Satisfied, Dan hit send.

Xoxo.

Fifteen more minutes, that's all he had. _Come on, Gossip Girl. _As if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and sure enough it was Gossip Girl. Chuck smirked at the blast. Louis' depravity was all out in the open now, and Chuck was sure the prince would be completely ruined.

"I know that face. That face means your plan is falling into place. What are you up to, Bass?" Blair asked quietly.

He was back in Blair's room, lounging in an uncomfortable chair right next to her bed. It was becoming too familiar.

"Nothing you have to concern yourself with, Waldorf," he replied absently.

"Chuck?" she asked quietly, tentatively.

"Yes?"

"You said you called me back?"

"Of course I did. Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"You didn't answer," she returned, averting her eyes.

"My phone was off. I would've answered, Blair," he assured.

"I thought…" she trailed off, fighting back the urge to cry.

"You thought what?" he asked softly.

"That you were done. With me." Color rushed into her cheeks at her admission.

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes boring into hers. "Blair, I –"

Chuck was interrupted by a clamor in the hallway. Heavy footsteps, raised voices – and it was getting closer. Chuck's stomach dropped as he realized what was happening.

"Chuck?" Blair asked, confused and concerned.

He didn't have a chance to answer as Louis, barreled into the room and made a beeline for Chuck. "Do you know what you just did?" he roared.

Chuck rose slowly, making sure to button his suit as he stood. "I know exactly what I did, Louis. The question is, what exactly are you doing here?" he spoke calmly.

"I was here to see Blair, until I saw the disgusting Gossip Girl blast. Such trash," Louis spat.

Chuck glanced towards Blair, who had backed herself into the farthest corner of her bed, her covers wrapped around her. He could see her shaking from where he stood. "Let's talk outside, Louis." He had to protect her.

Louis looked over his shoulder at Blair and smiled. "I think here is just fine."

Chuck was watching Blair and didn't see the fist coming towards him until it had almost connected with his face. In an instant, had Louis punched him in the face and he heard Blair yelp. "You just destroyed my life," Louis said coldly.

Despite the blow, Chuck smirked. "Good."

Louis punched him again. "Bastard."

"Stop it!" Blair was out of bed and pounding furiously at Louis with her tiny fists. "Stop!" she cried.

Chuck watched in horror as Louis turned around and slapped her across the face. Blair backed away slowly, her eyes wide and distant. In that moment, something inside Chuck snapped. No one touched Blair, especially not like that. Louis was pushed up against the wall before Chuck even knew what he was doing. "How dare you?" he whispered coldly. "How dare you touch her like that?" Chuck grabbed the collar of Louis' shirt and slammed him against the wall, harder. "You piece of garbage," he seethed.

"Chuck, stop," Blair pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

Chuck's eyes rose to meet hers. At the sight of her distressed, he backed away from Louis. "Leave New York, Louis, or I will actually kill you," he said coldly. "Take your mistress and go."

"And what of Blair?" Louis asked.

"She is no longer any of your business," Chuck rasped.

Louis smirked. "I'm a prince. And you? New money?"

"Get the fuck out, Louis," Chuck bit out.

Louis smirked at Chuck once again, before shooting Blair a smile. He wasn't letting her go that easily. "I'll see you both later," he said, smiling devilishly.

As soon Louis was gone, Chuck was at her side. "Are you ok?" he asked quietly.

She touched her cheek, and felt that it was slightly hot and swollen under her hand. "I'm ok," she said absently.

"Waldorf, look at me."

She forced herself to look up at him, and noticed the bright purple bruise blooming on the right side of his face. Her fingers went to it immediately, wanting to sooth him. "Are _you _ok?" she asked instead.

Chuck simply shook his head and pressed his face into her hand, relishing the feeling of her fingers against his skin. She understood instantly and stroked his jawbone soothingly, tracing light patterns across the plane of his cheekbone. He relaxed into her touch.

"You're exhausted," she whispered

He wanted to deny it. He was fine, _really._ But he didn't have the energy to fight her. Instead, he simply nodded. "I am," he replied quietly.

"Blair! Blair Cornelia Waldorf!" Eleanor's voice pierced their reverie.

Blair jumped and Chuck forced his eyes open. He was on high-alert once more.

"What is going on, Blair?" Eleanor asked impatiently, her eyes hard and cold. She took in the sight of Chuck and Blair before her and added, "And what is the meaning of this?"

Chuck glared at Eleanor before rising to stand. "I think you should leave, Eleanor."

Eleanor scoffed. "No, my _daughter_ owes me an explanation."

Chuck clenched his fists. "Eleanor –" he began.

Blair interrupted him immediately. "Chuck, don't," she said, grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I have already given you an explanation, Mother. Just because you don't accept it doesn't mean I didn't try to explain it."

"Blair Cornelia –" Eleanor began to chastise her again.

Blair turned her head away from her mother. "You should leave, Mother. I'm done arguing with you about this. Louis hit me. I'm done. With him, and with you."

Chuck could barely believe what he was hearing. Blair sticking up to her mother was unheard of.

"Blair!"

"No!" Blair shouted, squeezing Chuck's hand so hard it hurt. "I have done everything to make you happy and I am still _not good enough. _Leave, Eleanor. We're done here." Blair dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

Eleanor's jaw tightened. "I am your mother, Blair," she replied, warning in her voice.

"Oh, yeah? Maybe you should have acted like one. You're _still _not acting like one. He hit me and you're mad at _me?_"

"I just want what's best for –"

"Don't even complete that sentence, Eleanor," Blair bit out. "Leave, now. Chuck?" She looked up at Chuck for reassurance.

Chuck nodded. "I think it would be best if you left, Eleanor."

"How dare you?" Eleanor seethed. "Who do you think you are?"

"I'm Chuck Bass. And unlike you, I have your daughter's best interests at heart. Leave. You aren't welcome here," Chuck replied coolly.

Eleanor furrowed her brow at both Chuck and Blair. "You're marrying Louis, dear," she replied coldly, with a pointed look at Blair, before turning around and leaving the room.

The room was quiet for a few minutes before Blair whispered, "She doesn't even_ care_ about me_._"

"You won't marry him, will you?" he asked quietly, after a few moments.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"Your mother's approval…I know how much it means. You'd do anything for her approval." Chuck paused a moment before continuing more quietly, "Does that include marrying him?"

"Even if intended to, would you let me?" she asked, with a chuckle.

"I'm not joking," he replied, trying to keep his voice even.

"I…I don't think I could have married him," she said quietly.

Chuck felt himself relax at her words and lowered himself back down onto the bed next her. "No?" he asked as he settled back against her, hoping she would elaborate.

"The past couple of months…It's like I was a zombie. I was living automatically. I did the parties, and the galas, and the social calls, and the wedding planning. It was all planned, Chuck, every last detail. I made sure everything would be perfect. But I think…once I put on that dress, and I was about to walk down that aisle…I think I would see who was standing there and I think I would have panicked. I don't think I would be able to go through with it – then or now," she reasoned. "I didn't love him, Chuck. Not anymore. I think I did once, but I stopped a while ago. I don't know when."

"I probably would have crashed anyways, Waldorf," Chuck replied with a small smile.

Blair snuggled into Chuck's side. "Thanks, Bass," she murmured.

"For what?" he asked, pulling her into him, relishing the feeling of her lithe body against him.

"For saving me before it came to that. I mean, could you imagine how disappointed my mother would have been with me?" she let out a sardonic chuckle.

"Why do care so much what she thinks?" Chuck seethed in a voice louder than he intended.

"She's my mother, Chuck. I want to her to be happy," she replied quietly.

Chuck took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently forced her to look at him. "And I want _you _to be happy. Fuck what Eleanor wants."

Blair looked away from him, but nodded slightly before settling her head back onto his shoulder. They laid like that for a few minutes in comfortable silence before Blair spoke again, "Can I go home, Chuck?"

"Lily's working on it right now, Waldorf. We'll break you out of here soon, I promise," Chuck replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Where is home?" he added after a moment.

"With you," she replied, hesitantly. "If you'll have me." Her voice trembled with nerves as she spoke.

"You know how I suggested you look for an apartment of your own?" he replied.

"Oh. Yes," she replied quietly. _He kicked you out, remember? _"Of course."

"I don't think you should do that anymore."

"W-what?" she asked.

"I think you should move in with me," he replied soundly.

"Chuck?" she questioned.

"If you want to, that is," he replied, hesitating.

She couldn't help but smile. "Really?"

"Yes, really. What do you say, Waldorf? Want to be my roommate?" he replied with a smirk.

"Roommate?" she chuckled. "Sure, I'll be your roommate, Bass. But you can't have girls over."

Chuck smirked at her. "Why would I need girls over when I have _you _as a roommate?"

"I'm serious, Chuck," she said quietly.

"Yeah, so am I," he answered right back.

Blair smiled despite herself and burrowed herself against him, ready for sleep. "I love you, Chuck."

"I love you, too, Blair."

Xoxo.

The dress fit her like a glove. She knew she looked beautiful – everyone had told her so. It was a custom-made Vera Wang, and it was extraordinary, but it felt much too tight. "Serena," she gasped, beckoning for her best friend.

"B, what's wrong?" Serena asked, noticing the strange expression on her best friend's face.

"Nothing," Blair replied tightly.

"You're thinking about Chuck, aren't you?"

Blair whirled around to face Serena. "Why would I be thinking about Chuck right now, Serena?"

"You don't love Louis, Blair. Everyone can see it. You love Chuck."

"No, I love Louis!" Blair responded. Her voice sounded forced and she knew it.

Serena studied Blair for a few moments. "Is this what you really want, B? Because I am totally prepared to make a run with you."

Blair forced herself to smile. She was happy. She loved Louis. Her mother approved of her. "Serena, will you tell everyone that I'm ready to begin? Of course it is, S," Blair responded cheerily.

Serena looked at Blair skeptically, but she knew there was no point in trying to change her best friend's mind. If Blair was decided, there was nothing she could do. She knew her best friend was making a mistake, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. "I'll let everyone know we can begin," Serena said tightly. _Mistake, mistake, mistake._

"Thank you, Serena," Blair replied, tightly.

Her father was on her right arm, Cyrus was on her left. She heard the wedding march, but her feet were frozen. She couldn't move. She looked up at her groom and she panicked when she realized the face was all wrong.

She couldn't marry Louis. _No, no, no._

She didn't protest as Harold and Cyrus led her down the aisle. Her legs moved automatically. She could see Louis smile at her from the altar. The smile was wrong. The form was wrong. It wasn't Chuck. She was supposed to marry Chuck, not Louis.

Somehow her legs carried her up the stairs, and she stood before Louis, who bore a wide grin. Everyone was watching her, waiting, judging. Why had she decided to go through with this? Serena was right – she didn't love Louis, she loved Chuck. So why was she in the big white dress in front of all these people?

Blair didn't know the answer. The world lurched and she was on her knees, struggling to breathe. She looked around for help, but all she saw were the fake smiles plastered to the faces of the people who supposedly cared about her, mocking her. She couldn't do this. She couldn't marry him. Why didn't anyone see? She started to cry, but they all just continued to stare at her, waiting.

Where was Chuck? He would save her.

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf," Eleanor hissed from her seat, loud enough for the first few rows could hear her. "Get off your knees and marry him."

Blair listened to her mother, rising to from the ground. She felt unsteady, dizzy. _I can't do this. No. You _have _to._

She looked to the nave of the church, fully expecting Chuck to be waiting. He would stop this. He wouldn't let her marry anyone else, she knew that for certain.

Where was he?

_"_I now pronounce you man and wife."

Wait, she hadn't even said 'I do.' She hadn't agreed to this. _No, no, no._

"No!" She shot up in bed, breathing hard, covered in sweat.

_It was just a dream, Blair. Get ahold of yourself. _She felt her breathing return to normal and she wiped the droplets of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, looking down at the sleeping form next to her on the bed with a small smile. She was sure overnight visits were frowned upon by the hospital, but he was Chuck Bass, and he did what he wanted.

She watched as he snored lightly, completely unaware that she was even awake. She was transfixed on his face, his lips parted slightly, and she felt a pang of guilt as she saw the bruise on his face had fully fleshed out, bright purple and angry. He looked paler than usual, and his face looked worn, drawn, with dark half-moon crescents underneath his eyes.

_This has to stop, Blair._

That night had been a wake-up call for Blair. The images of tears welling in Chuck's eyes, Louis hitting Chuck, Chuck slamming Louis up against the wall, crazed, were seared into her brain. It was all her fault. Chuck had been right, of course – She _was _destroying herself. What he hadn't said, however, was that she was also destroying him in the process.

_This has to stop, Blair. _

It would stop. It had to. She had to get better, had to be better, for him. Blair reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "I promise, it will."


	13. Home

**Chapter 13 – Home**

"See something you like, Waldorf?" he murmured sleepily, noticing that she was sitting up in bed, intently watching him.

Blair merely smiled at him. "I was just waiting for you to wake up so we can go home."

_So _we _can go home. _God, how he loved the way that sounded.

"How much did you have bribe the nurses so you could stay in my room, by the way?" she teased.

"I bought the night nurse off with $50. She should've haggled, though, I would have paid her much more," he replied with a shrug.

"Well, the nurse who was in here earlier looked none too pleased with you, Bass."

Chuck sat up, swiftly dropping a kiss onto the curve of her shoulder. "I'm Chuck Bass," he said smoothly.

She swatted him away playfully before becoming serious. "How did you sleep?" she asked quietly.

Chuck noticed the change in her demeanor, and pressed his lips to her shoulder once more, resting his chin on her shoulder as he responded. "Best sleep I've had in weeks, Waldorf," he assured her.

"And your face?"

"Smarts, but I'll live."

"Good," she replied with a small smile.

"Ms. Waldorf?" a nurse spoke, entering the room. Her eyes went from Blair before landing disapprovingly on Chuck. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes!" she nearly shouted.

"Wonderful," the nurse replied without enthusiasm, looking down at her clipboard. "The paperwork is all done, I'll just go get your personal belongings and we'll have you out of here in no time," she said, turning on her heel and scurrying out of the room.

"Excited there, Waldorf?" Chuck asked with a slight chuckle.

"I just want everything to go back to normal," she said quietly, looking up at him with doe eyes. "I just want to go home."

Chuck nodded in understanding before standing up from her bed, stretching his arms over his head. "I had Dorota bring you something to wear. I know you'd be infuriated at the idea of wearing _yesterday's_ clothes," he said, noticing her questioning gaze.

"Since when is Dorota on your payroll?"

"It's a recent development," he replied with a smirk, handing her an evergreen cable-knit sweater and a pair of designer jeans.

"Thanks, Bass," she said with a small smile before pulling the hospital gown she was wearing up over her head, revealing a black lacy bralette underneath.

Chuck's eyes widened and he gulped at the suddenness of her actions, overwhelmed by the sight of her smooth, white skin after such a long absence.

"See something _you_ like, Bass?" she teased, before deftly pulling the sweater over her head before standing up to pull on the jeans over matching black panties. "Tongue-tied?" she continued after a moment after he continued to stare at her.

Chuck shook his head and cleared his throat. "Only you can leave me speechless, Waldorf," he returned softly.

"Ms. Waldorf, I have your things," came the voice of the nurse and she once again entered the room, finally forcing Chuck to pull his eyes away from Blair, who was still smirking at him. "And you are all ready to go," she continued, without looking up from her chart.

"She's a delight," Blair said scornfully, grabbing the bag of her clothes with two fingers and held it far away from herself, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Chuck rolled his eyes and took the bag from her, tucking it under his arm. "You are such a snob sometimes, you know."

"I am not," she clipped back haughtily

Chuck smirked back at her and grabbed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. "You are. Come on, let's go home," he said, giving her fingers a squeeze and small tug, urging her to follow.

She smiled at him in return, following him eagerly out of the room, to the elevator, and then to his waiting limo, where he held the door for her, ushering her inside before dropping in behind her on the soft, black leather seats. She leaned back gratefully and closed her eyes, inhaling the rich scent of the freshly cleaned leather. Blair loved the feel of the leather - buttery soft and luxurious - a much-needed change from a hospital bed.

They rode in a comfortable silence, and Blair slipped across the leather seats to move closer to the window, taking in the well-known sights as she watched the world pass by her. She turned to look at Chuck, who was already watching her in turn. She reached out a hand and grabbed his forearm. "Come here," she said softly, pulling at him gently.

He obliged and slid closer to her, placing his arm around her shoulders. "What are you thinking about?" he asked softly. "You're quiet."

Blair didn't answer at first, and pressed a kiss against the stubble of his cheek. "You need a shave, Bass," she teased softly, before kissing him again, closer to his mouth.

Chuck felt his breath hitch at the feel of her lips. "You didn't answer my question, Waldorf."

"I want you to kiss me," she replied, her lips inches from his.

"Blair—"

"No," she interrupted softly. "You tell me you love me, you want me to live with you, but you haven't even tried to kiss me. Kiss me."

"Blair, I –"

"Just kiss me, Chuck," she demanded.

He obliged, and suddenly he found her lips against his. Her lips were soft and plump, just the way he remembered. He kissed her gently, pulling away after a few moments.

She smiled up at him, placing her palm against his cheek. "I've been waiting for that."

"That's nothing, Waldorf," he replied with a smirk.

"I know," she replied quietly.

Chuck could hear the nervousness in her voice, despite her best efforts. "Should we talk, Blair?" he asked.

"About what?" she asked too quickly.

"Us."

"Probably," she murmured softly.

At that moment, the limo stopped in front of The Empire. Blair went to open the door immediately, but Chuck grabbed her hand and once more laced his fingers with hers. "Hey," he started, "Once you get settled in we'll talk, ok?"

She nodded quickly. "Ok," she responded, once again moving towards the door, but his fingers held her.

He pulled her back into him, and placed his lips on hers once. It was quick, and gentle. "I do love you, Blair," he said when he pulled away from her.

"I know," she whispered back. "We'll talk. Later." She smiled nervously.

Chuck frowned, confused at the sudden change in her demeanor, as she pulled her hand from his, ducking out of the limo and onto the street. He followed her and immediately grabbed her hand again. She didn't fight him, and held his hand as they walked through the lobby and into the elevator. At the penthouse, the elevator dinged and Chuck automatically put his keycard into the waiting slot. The doors opened, and he felt Blair tense. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not ready," she answered quietly.

He stepped back into the elevator, letting the doors close again. "Ready for what?" he asked.

"Sex," she replied quietly. "I know what I did earlier, and –"

"Don't," Chuck interrupted. "I know. You're beautiful, and perfect, and as much as I want you…I know. We won't. It's ok."

"Is it?" she asked quietly.

Chuck ran his fingers through his hair. "Can we get out of this fucking elevator so we can actually talk? I'm not going to maul you, Waldorf," he replied, exasperated.

"I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea," she said softly.

Chuck ignored her statement as he slipped his keycard back into the slot, the doors opening more. "After you."

Blair walked into his penthouse and immediately felt at home. This was home. Chuck was home.

Chuck immediately took a seat on the red couch in the middle of the room and motioned for her to sit beside him. "Come sit, Blair."

Blair obliged, tentatively, sitting a few inches away from Chuck. "I'm here."

"Why are you suddenly afraid of me?" he asked quietly.

"I saw how you looked at me. I did that on purpose…but I shouldn't have. I don't regret kissing you. But I don't want you to get the wrong idea," she said softly, hiding her face into her hands.

"What is the wrong idea?"

"I just can't…right now," she offered lamely.

"Do you think I'd ever push you to do that? Because I wouldn't," he responded, feeling himself flush slightly at her insinuation.

"I shouldn't have teased you, I'm sorry," she said, shrinking away from him.

_Louis would've hit her if she said 'No,'_ it dawned on him, and he felt a sudden coldness fill his belly.

"Hey, look at me," he said, wrapping his arms around her. Her eyes met his after a few moments. "Don't be sorry. You haven't done anything wrong. I've already told you that I would wait."

"Will you? Or will you take a mistress, too?" she asked coldly.

"I'm not him, Blair."

"Answer me," she demanded.

"Never," he answered, bewildered. "How could you ever think that?"

"Louis did," she said solemnly.

"Yes, and Louis is _garbage._ I love you, Blair. Probably more than I love myself. I would never…" he trailed off. "I don't know how you could even think it."

"You also love sex," she argued.

"I do. Your point?"

"If you can't have it with me…"

"Fuck, Blair," he said heatedly. "Are you testing me? Because yes, I love sex, and I love you, and I _love_ having sex with you. But I _only _want you." He quieted. "You, Blair. Just you. I only want you. So _stop_ testing me."

She flinched at his raised voice, but relaxed at his words. _This is Chuck, Blair. Not Louis. _"I'm afraid I'm not enough. I never have been." She wondered where her words were coming from. She never spoke about her insecurities – but suddenly they were flowing freely from her mouth.

"Not enough?" he questioned. "You're kidding, right?"

Blair didn't speak, but simply shook her head.

"You're everything, Blair," he said quietly, placing a gentle hand on her cheek.

Relaxed slightly at his touch, she wound her fingers through his hair, tentatively, pulling him close. His forehead rested against hers and they were both breathing heavily until their lips met. Chuck pressed further, his tongue begging for hers. She obliged and their tongues met as they kissed, tasting - savoring each other. Chuck broke the kiss, his lips moving down to her throat. "Tell me to stop and I will," he murmured. He had to prove to her that she could trust him.

"Stop," she whispered, almost painfully.

Chuck immediately pulled away from her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Do you love me?" he asked.

"You know I do!"

"Do you want to be with me?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered quietly.

He smiled before softly pressing his lips against hers again. "Then I'm yours, and I'll wait," he murmured, breaking their kiss.

Xoxo.

The next morning, Blair awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the windows in Chuck's room. She winced at the brightness and flipped over to face the other side of the bed, which she was disappointed to find empty. There was an indentation on Chuck's side of the bed, indicating that he hadn't been gone long. Rising from the bed, Blair found a spare robe hanging in Chuck's closet, and she pulled it on and tied the belt. The robe was much too large for her, reaching almost to her ankles, the sleeves so long they covered her hands. But it smelled like Chuck, and that thought made her smile.

Satisfied, Blair opened the French doors of the bedroom to look for Chuck. He was neither in the living room, nor the kitchen, but there was a fresh pot of coffee waiting on the counter. Pulling out a mug, Blair poured herself a cup of the dark brew and took a quick sip, feeling herself immediately begin to wake as the hot drink slightly seared her tongue. Cup in hand, Blair walked down the hallway and noticed the closed door at the end – Chuck's office. She smiled and opened the door without knocking and slipped inside.

Chuck was seated behind the polished mahogany desk, swiveled in his desk chair so he was facing away from her. "I'm aware of that, Holmberg," Chuck said with a hint of agitation in his voice.

Blair stilled her movement, realizing he was on the phone.

"I know, Holmberg," Chuck once again spoke tersely. "I know what the board said. I don't care. I've had some personal matters to take care of."

Blair's smile left her face when she realized who Chuck was talking to.

"I _know. _Look, it's not like I abandoned the company. I have trusted the board to do what they think is best, and I'm still very much aware of what is going on at Bass Industries. I just need a slight leave of absence to take care of some personal matters."

A long pause.

"No, _not _rehab, Holmberg. I said it was personal, didn't I? That means 'none of your business.'"

Chuck had been ignoring his company, his legacy, all for her. Blair felt slightly nauseous. She was screwing up his life as well as her own. Every time she had fallen apart, he had come to her side without question, ready to put her back together piece-by-piece. And she was repaying him by forcing him to choose between her and his future. She felt selfish and loathsome.

"Yeah, Holmberg. I got it. I'll be back in as soon as I can."

Chuck finished his call, and slammed the receiver of the phone down, causing Blair to jump slightly. Chuck let out of deep exhale and opened his eyes. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked when he saw her.

Blair tried to force a smile onto her face, "Not long," she said cheerily.

He immediately saw right through her. "So, the whole thing, then?"

Blair nodded ruefully. "The whole thing," she affirmed, continuing towards him, and taking a seat in the luxurious leather chair across from Chuck's desk."

"I know what you're thinking, Blair, and I want you to stop. This is not something I want you to worry about."

"Chuck, but Bass Industries – that's your legacy, your future! You can't just squander that away!" she cried.

Chuck gave her an odd look, which she couldn't quite decipher. "I'm not squandering away anything, Waldorf. I'm not the only person who works at Bass Industries. I'm letting someone else take the helm for a little bit. Look, I really don't want you worrying about this or overthinking it, like I _know _you are."

She couldn't let him ruin his future for her. "Go to work, Chuck," she replied softly. "I'll be all right without you for a few hours. In fact, I might go shopping with Serena today."

Chuck sighed but relented. "I'll go for a few hours, ok? Just a few."

"Good Bass," she said with a smile, standing up. "I'll go call Serena."

She turned her back on him and began to make her way back to the door. "Blair?" he called to her softly, before her hand had reached the doorknob. Blair turned to face him with a questioning gaze. "If Serena's busy, I want you to stay here, ok?"

Under normal circumstances, Blair would have been infuriated by Chuck's request, but there was something about the tone of his voice and the genuine concern in eyes that made her nod her head in acquiescence. "Ok, Chuck," she replied softly before turning the knob and leaving him alone in his office.

Blair found her phone and sat down primly on the couch in the living room, a fresh cup of coffee on the table in front of her. She promptly found Serena's information and called.

"B!" Serena shouted into phone.

"Hey, S," she replied, biting her lip and choosing her next words. "I know we fought and at all…But I was wondering if maybe we could go shopping today or something?" Blair's words rushed out all at once.

"B!" Serena squealed. "God, I'm so glad you called. Look about that fight – I'm so sorry, B. You were completely right about everything. And yes! I'd love to go shopping! Bergdorf's and Bendel's? I'll pick you up at Chuck's in an hour-and-half?"

"Sounds great, S. I'll hop in the shower right now."

"I can't wait to see you, B!" Serena shouted before hanging up the phone.

Blair smiled at her best friend's enthusiasm, and made her way back to Chuck's room to take a shower. Finding a fresh set of The Empire's best fluffy white towels, Blair turned on the shower, before stripping and stepping inside, relishing the feel of the hot water on her skin. She showered quickly, and was almost done with her routine when she heard a knock at the door. "Chuck?" she shouted over the steady drum of the water on the ivory tiles.

"I'm leaving, Waldorf. Just wanted to say goodbye," Chuck returned.

"Hang on! I'm almost done," she replied, finishing up quickly and turning the shower off, ringing the excess water from her chestnut hair before wrapping a towel around her frame. She found Chuck waiting on the edge of the bed, freshly changed into a gray wool suit, a white dress shirt, and a lavender bowtie, completed with contrasting pocket square. She smiled at the sight of him. _God, he's handsome._

He was staring at her, his dark eyes huge as they stared at the sight before him, Blair's slim form wrapped in a fluffy white towel, her milky skin glistening with fresh water droplets, and the scent of his body wash on her skin. Realizing he was staring, Chuck's eyes snapped back up to meet hers. "Yeah, I'm leaving," he repeated, slightly distracted.

"You're staring," she said quietly.

"Sorry," he stammered. "You're just…You're gorgeous," he replied softly. "Now are you going to say goodbye to me or not?"

Blair smiled at his words and closed the distance between them, leaning down and taking his face into her hands. She pulled him close and pressed her lips gently against his, immediately feeling sparks ignite beneath her skin. She gave him several soft kisses before pulling away. "Bye, Bass," she said with a smile.

Chuck smiled back, standing and buttoning his suit back before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his arms. "Bye, Waldorf," he murmured into her wet hair. "Call me if you need anything, ok?"

"I'll be fine, Bass. It's just a few hours," she chuckled.

"I know," he said, pulling away from her. "Tell that sister of mine that if she doesn't take care of you, I'll be out for blood. Oh, and one more thing," he said, fishing his wallet out of his breast pocket and pulling out a credit card. "Lunch is on me."

Blair grabbed the card greedily between her fore- and middle fingers. "We are going to get the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu, I hope you know."

"Whatever you want, my love," he said with a chuckle. He kissed her once more, on the cheek, before turning and leaving her.

She realized within moments that this was the first time she had really, truly been alone in months. Louis had always been present, suffocating her, controlling her every move, laying his hands on her when she didn't comply with his exact demands. Then there was Chuck, ignoring his own life and responsibilities to take care of her, to keep her safe. Serena had been a terrible hostess, but Blair hadn't been alone then there, either, not really.

Suddenly, she was alone, and it made her nervous. She busied her hands, applying her makeup subtly, limited to the products that she had left in Chuck's bathroom the last time she had stayed there. Her wardrobe was also limited, but she found a royal purple dress and a pair of black tights adorned with a small herringbone pattern that worked well-enough together. Just as she was finishing pulling on her tights, she heard a knock at the front door of the suit. Blair's spine immediately stiffened and she walked to the door, soundlessly on her tip toes, before peering through the peephole. _Of course, it's just Serena. Relax, Blair. _

Relaxed, Blair flung open the door. "Hey, S. Come in, I'm just finishing up. I need to find a pair of shoes," she said with a smile.

"All right, B," Serena replied easily, returning Blair's smile as she plopped down on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

Blair eventually found a pair of black Alexandre Birman's in the back of Chuck's closet, and she slid them on and grabbed her bag before returning to the living room to find Serena texting away, a smile lighting up her face. "That's quite the smile, S," she said wryly.

Serena looked up from her phone. "Sorry, B. Carter," she explained. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Blair replied, grabbing her gray peacoat from where it hung in the coat closet. "Oh, and I hope you're hungry, lunch is on Chuck," Blair said with a smirk.

"Le Bernardin?" Serena asked with a smile and the raise of an eyebrow.

"Sounds good to me," Blair replied, following Serena out the door.

Xoxo.

Half-an-hour later, Blair and Serena were seated at Le Bernardin, a bottle of chilled Montrachet between them, and the caviar having just been served. "So, I guess we have a lot to talk about, B," Serena started.

"Yeah, I guess so," Blair mumbled, taking a large sip of her wine, savoring the flavors of pear and apple, and the minerality that paired so well with the salinity of the caviar.

"So, B. What's going on with you and Chuck?"

Blair sighed and leaned back in her chair and sighed deeply. "I don't even know what to tell you, Serena. I barely know what to tell myself."

"What does that mean?" Serena asked, spreading some caviar onto a cracker.

"He asked me to move in with him," Blair said quietly.

"What!?" Serena nearly shrieked, drawing the attention of the other patrons nearby.

"Serena, keep your voice down," Blair seethed under her breath.

"Sorry, B. But, what? He asked you to move in with him? B, that's huge. What did you say?"

"I'm living there, aren't I?" Blair replied smoothly.

"So, you guys are together then?" Serena asked.

Blair paused. Were they together?

"Wait. So, he asked you to move in with him, but he can't even call himself your boyfriend? Wow, typical Chuck," Serena said, rolling her eyes.

"It's not him, it's me," Blair said quietly, her eyes unable to meet Serena's.

Serena narrowed her eyes at Blair's statement. "Go on, B," she encouraged.

"Serena, I'm afraid to have sex with him," Blair whispered.

Serena put down the cracker she had just raised to her mouth and took a large gulp of wine. "You're afraid? Blair?"

"I don't mean like that. And it's not him. I love him, and I want him, I do. I just…I can't," Blair said with a shrug. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Have you told him this?"

"I told him I'm not ready. Which I guess isn't a lie," Blair replied. "The way he looks at me sometimes, it scares me."

Serena smiled. "He loves you, B. He always has."

"I'm afraid he's ruining his life for me," Blair blurted out, suddenly.

"What?" Serena asked with wide eyes.

"I had to force him to go to work today. I don't know how long it's been since he's gone. But I'm sure it's been weeks. I overheard him on the phone with Pete Holmberg this morning. The board doesn't seem too pleased with him. And it's because of me, S. It's my fault." Blair felt tears shining in her eyes, but held them back.

Serena smiled brightly. "Oh, B. Stop being so dramatic. Chuck has run that company so well over the past few years and he deserves a break anyway. And it's not your fault - he's a grown man who makes his own choices. And B, you understand that that means he chose you over Bass Industries, right?"

Blair thought for a moment before arguing back, "I don't want him to ruin his future."

Serena rolled her eyes. "You both are absolutely infuriating. You don't think that _you're _his future? God, B. Wake up. The man adores you."

Blair thought for a moment before a smile lit up her features. "I guess you're right, S. Sometimes you are surprisingly astute. I will need you to get back to me on the sex thing, though," she continued, her voice lower.

Serena chortled. "I promise to think about it and get back to you, B." Serena's phone began to ring on the table. "Sorry, it's my mom – I better take it," she said rolling her eyes. "I'll be back in a moment.

_The man adores you. _Blair smiled softly, taking a small sip of wine. She was so deep in her thoughts she didn't even see the brunette take Serena's seat.

"Hello, Blair," the woman spoke.

Blair jumped, startled from her thoughts. "I'm sorry, can I help you?" she asked, having no recognition of the woman in front of her. She felt the pinprick of nerves, immediately uneasy at the strange woman's presence.

The woman simply rolled her eyes. "I'm Estee," she responded simply.

Blair's eyes darted back and forth, looking for Serena, who was nowhere in sight. "I'm sorry, Estee, I don't believe we've met," Blair said, plastering a smile to her face, masking her unease.

"Oh, we haven't," said Estee with a brilliant smile.

"Who are you?" Blair asked quietly.

"Ask your boyfriend," Estee responded, before rising and disappearing as quickly as she had appeared.

Serena repapered after a moment. "Who was that, B?" she asked quizzically.

"No idea. She seemed plastered, though. I mean, really? It's not even 2 PM," Blair forced a chuckle.

Blair remained quiet throughout the rest of their lunch, and drank more than her half of the bottle of wine, before begging off from their shopping spree. She was too tired, it was too much, and yes, really, it _had_ been a lot of fun. She wanted to go home. She wanted to talk to Chuck. She wanted to know who the _hell _this Estee was.

Serena dropped her off at The Empire with a worried look. "Do you want me to come up? We could watch _Breakfast at Tiffany's_?"

"Rain check?" Blair asked. "I really am tired. I think I overestimated my strength." It wasn't necessarily a lie, she reasoned. And who the _fuck _was Estee?

"Ok, B. I'll call you later?"

"Sounds good, S," Blair said enthusiastically. _Fake, fake, fake._

Blair made her way up to Chuck's suite, immediately discarding her shoes. She felt sick to her stomach. She didn't turn on any lights on in the suite, but simply made her way to the bedroom where she discarded her dress and tights, changing into a pair of Chuck's silk boxers and an oversized Columbia sweatshirt she found in his closet. _Of course he has a Columbia sweatshirt. _

She walked to where Chuck's trusty decanter of scotch sat, and poured herself a healthy glass, before walking to the window and perching herself on the large sill, her knees drawn up into her chest as she watched the winter sky of New York change from sunshine to a light gray, signifying the setting sun.

It was just before the sun had completely set, giving itself over to the night, that she heard the click of the lock at the front door. "Blair?" Chuck called out. He turned on the lights, and saw her immediately. She quickly chugged what was rest of the scotch in her glass. "Baby?" his voice was questioning, confused.

"I just have one question, Chuck," she said coolly, setting the empty glass down on the sill.

"What is that?" he asked, clearly confused.

"Who the _fuck _is Estee!?" she nearly shouted.

"When did you see Estee?" he asked uneasily, his voice tense.

"At lunch. She ambushed me," she replied coldly.

"Blair, it isn't like that, I swear - "

"So that's why she told me to ask _my boyfriend _who the hell she was? Fuck you, Chuck," she said, averting her eyes from his.

"Blair, I'm not sleeping with her! Louis is," he replied heatedly, exasperated. "I have pictures if you don't believe me," he added, quieter.

Blair looked up, back into his eyes. She knew he was telling the truth. "I believe you," she said quietly.

"Good," he said softly. "Because it's true. Stop doubting me, Waldorf. Did she threaten you? Are you all right?"

"No, just told me to ask you who she was. This is not over, is it?"

"I'll keep you safe, I promise," he murmured.

"Make him go away, Chuck," she said quietly, returning her gaze to the New York City skyline. "I need him to just _go away_." After a long pause she spoke again, "Fix me another glass?" She motioned to her empty tumbler.

He nodded, grabbing the glass and pouring them both a large glass of scotch. Chuck sat down on the floor below, his back pressed against the wall. "Come here," he said, gently pulling on her ankle.

Blair obliged, sliding from the windowsill and down onto the floor next to him. "I'm afraid to have sex with you," she said quietly. She was just drunk enough to admit it to him.

"What? Why?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know, really," she answered simply. "Serena said I should talk to you. And why are you choosing me over Bass Industries? That's your whole future."

He gave her that same indecipherable look from earlier. "That company isn't my entire future, Blair," he said quietly, looking away.

She nodded. "I don't think I trust anyone anymore. Except you," she continued.

"Then why are you afraid?"

"There were a lot times when he touched me…When I didn't want him to. I never said 'no.' But I didn't want him to…" she whispered, trailing off.

"I'd never hurt you like that," Chuck replied brusquely.

She shook her head. "I know that, Chuck. I don't know how to explain it. I don't quite understand it myself. You know, I did try to seduce you. Then I panicked," she replied with a sullen chuckle.

Chuck didn't respond, just simply draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest with a gentle kiss to her forehead. They sat like that for a while, Chuck holding Blair close to him, hoping to comfort her, keep her safe, as they occasionally sipped scotch from crystal tumblers against the dying light of the day. Sometimes words just weren't needed.

Xoxo.

On the Lower East Side, Louis Grimaldi sat anxiously on the Ikea sofa in Estee's cramped one-bedroom apartment. The Lower East Side was far from what he was accustomed to, both on the Upper East Side and in Monaco, but Estee was good in bed and didn't talk back, so he would deal with it - for the time being. He had sent her on an errand hours ago, and he was getting impatient, and angry, as he waited for her to return. God, he needed a drink.

Finally, he heard the click of the lock, and Estee swung the door open to her apartment, her hands full of shopping bags.

"I sent you on one simple errand, Estee, not on a shopping spree," he growled at her.

"Sorry, Louis," she said with a sweet smile. "Thought I deserved a present. Why did you want me to do that anyways?"

Louis smirked. "Just wanted to plant a few seeds of doubt in Ms. Waldorf's mind," he replied easily.

"Why?

"Why are you asking so many questions?" he seethed back at her.

"Just curious," she mumbled.

"Well, if you're so curious, Estee, it is just one part of a greater plan," he replied.

"And what's the greater plan, Louis?" she asked.

"Isn't that obvious? Chuck Bass destroyed my life. I've lost my title, and my family has all but disowned me. So, I'm going to destroy him."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"Easy," he replied with a smirk. "I'm going to take Blair Waldorf away from him."

**AN: Y'all still with me? I appreciate everyone who's still reading, favoriting/following, and reviewing. It makes me smile. I had a bit of trouble writing this chapter so hopefully it is up to snuff. Please review for me? I'll consider it a birthday present (:**


	14. Embrace

**Chapter 14 – Embrace**

**A/N: First and foremost, thank you all for the reviews from last chapter. Sometimes I really doubt my writing - I am a bit of a perfectionist. Glad some of y'all like my writing. Secondly, this chapter is not M, per se. But it does get steamy, so you've been warned. Thirdly, I hope you're all staying safe. I'm still working and waiting to get the Coronavirus. Being essential is just the best. ANYWAYS, enjoy!**

The pair settled into a comfortable routine over the next few weeks. Blair, ever an early riser, set an alarm every morning for 6:30 AM, much to the chagrin of Chuck, who was notorious in his hatred for mornings. She would order in breakfast for them every morning: toast, bacon, and eggs for him and a low-fat yogurt parfait for her, along with occasional bites of his scrambled eggs he urged her to eat, pretending he was simply too full to take another bite. At her insistence, Chuck went into Bass Industries three days a week, leaving Blair alone to do as she pleased: the occasional shopping or spa trip with Serena, or lazily reading fashion magazines, spread across the comforter of the bed she now considered _theirs_, and the friendly phone calls with Nate, who insisted he was merely checking up on her - though she was sure Chuck had something to do with that part of her day.

At night, he'd return home with dinner or they'd order room service while chatting easily about their respective days. After dinner, they would watch a movie or read together, Blair's head on his shoulder, or his head in her lap if his day had been particularly bad. Later on, they would curl up together under the cool silk sheets of their bed, Chuck in one of his silk pajama sets, Blair in one of Chuck's shirts, or a t-shirt – Chuck had a surprising number of Columbia t-shirts, she had discovered – and a pair of his boxers.

It was comfortable. It was easy. They were happy, and Blair could feel herself starting to let her guard down.

It was a Wednesday morning and Chuck had just left work, slightly breathless from the goodbye kiss she had just given him, more forceful that usual. _Maybe tonight would be the night?_ It had only been a few minutes after he had left that she heard a sharp knock at the door, and she smiled as she opened the door to find a magnificent bouquet of peonies left on the doorstep. _Oh, yes, tonight _would _be the night. _

She scooped the flowers up and made her way into the kitchen, intent on finding a vase to put the peonies. Unable to locate one – _Of course Chuck Bass doesn't own a vase –_ she settled for an unused decanter she found in the top cabinet, dusty and abandoned. She filled the decanter with water and began to arrange the flowers expertly, in precisely the way she liked until something sliced across her index finger, causing her to jerk her hand away in shock. There was a small dribble of blood in the small cut of her finger - a papercut. Frowning, she wiped the bit of blood away before reaching back into the bouquet to retrieve the offending card.

_All my love._

_-L_

A small gasp escaped her, and she dropped the card to the floor. _No, no, no._

Without a second thought, she threw the flowers into the trash. Shaking, she leaned back against the counter and gripped the edge to steady herself, her knuckles white. She closed her eyes and breathed in, breathed out. It didn't help. Her eyes flashed open and she felt the ground lurch beneath her feet. _Call Chuck right now_, her brain screamed to her. She couldn't do it, though. He had already sacrificed too much for her.

Using all her strength, she forced herself away from the counter and stumbled toward the bedroom, her world spinning. It was a struggle, but eventually she found herself in their room, their bed. She slid under the covers, and rolled onto Chuck's side, grateful for the lingering scent of him on the pillow. Blair wrapped the covers around herself tightly, in a protective cocoon and closed her eyes, praying that the world would stop spinning soon.

Xoxo.

He was impatient to get home. This morning, when she kissed him…It was different. It was loving, as always. But there was passion, fire, _want. _He wondered if tonight would be the night Blair would finally let her guard down and let them actually _be. _Chuck wanted her so badly it ached throughout his whole body, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He was being patient - he would wait.

Nevertheless, he was ready to be back home, back with her, in any way she would let him. He was surprised, however, when he entered the penthouse and was met with darkness, save for the light above the stove in the kitchen.

Furrowing his brow, he removed his coat and hung it in the closet before he made his way to their bedroom, where he saw a mass of covers over her petite form, which was pressed into his side of the bed. It was only 7 PM, and he immediately became concerned. After removing his shoes, he lifted the covers and slid in next to her, pulling her close. She was wearing the same set of pajamas as that morning, and that unnerved him_. _"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Blair didn't answer. She simply turned to face Chuck, and buried her face in his warm chest. He knew something was wrong. He held quietly for a few minutes before speaking again, "Tell me what's wrong, Baby."

"Nothing's wrong, Bass," she replied, her voice muffled by his chest.

"Liar."

"Panic attack," she whispered, relenting.

"Why?"

"You know they sometimes just happen, Chuck," she said, her voice weak and trembling.

Yes. They sometimes did _just_ happen. Chuck had seen it with his own eyes: Blair Waldorf, cold and confident, ruler of Constance and all those who mattered in the Upper East Side. Then suddenly, her skin was clammy, she was trembling so hard she couldn't even sign her own name on a check, and stumbling without a single drink.

This wasn't one of those times.

"Don't lie to me,"

"I'm not lying," she insisted.

He knew she was lying. But he pulled her to closer to him, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade. "I don't believe you, Blair. At all."

"I'm not lying," she whispered.

She fell asleep in his arms within minutes, while he gazed at her with concern before sleep found him hours later.

Chuck woke up at 7:30 AM the next morning, the early morning sun streamed through the large picture windows, brightening the room slightly. It was still too early for him, but it was late for Blair.

"Waldorf," he murmured against her ear, "Thought you were my alarm clock these days."

"Must not have set mine," she mumbled back, eyes still closed.

"Leave breakfast to me, Waldorf," he replied, pulling away from her slightly to reach the phone on the bedside table. As he moved away, she clung to him, unwilling to let go.

"I'm not going anywhere today. I'm all yours," he said, shooting her a smile.

_You're worrying me._

"Pancakes or French toast, Waldorf?" he asked, holding his hand over the speaker.

"Yogurt parfait. Non-fat."

"Wasn't an option. Pancakes or French toast?"

"French toast, I guess."

As pile of fluffy French toast, steaming eggs, and fresh, crispy bacon arrived in his suit, Chuck decided not to bring up the night before. Instead, he watched her intently, trying to gauge her mood as she cut the French toast into small bites, pushing them around in the syrup before abandoning them. "Eat it, Blair. You aren't fooling me," he said as he watched her repeat the pattern for the fifth time in a row.

Her fork hovered for a minute before she reluctantly stabbed a piece of the toast and popped it into her mouth delicately, chewing forcefully. "Happy?" she asked, after she had swallowed.

"Don't fight me on this, Blair. Just eat, please."

She paused after the word 'please.' Chuck Bass did not say please, ever. Relenting, she ate a whole piece of French toast before pushing it away. "I'm full," she stated.

Chuck pushed his plate towards her, where a small amount of scrambled eggs remained. "Humor me and take a couple of bites, ok? You need some protein."

Blair glared at him before taking a few bites of egg. "I'm full, Chuck," she said again.

He nodded, satisfied.

"I'm sorry for worrying you last night," she said, pushing the plate away and looking away from him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I already told you; I just had a panic attack," she replied, still not meeting his gaze.

"I'm not going to push you. But I know you're lying to me. And I wish you'd stop," he said simply.

"Chuck, I –"

"Don't lie to me," he interrupted.

_Just fucking trust me._

Blair remained quiet and shoved a large bite of scrambled egg into her mouth.

A bouquet arrived every Wednesday morning without fail, and she always promptly dumped them in the trash. She didn't want Chuck to know.

She didn't want him to worry.

But then she began to see the bags beneath underneath his eyes, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and when she held him in her arms, he seemed smaller, like he had lost weight.

_This has to stop. _

_So why wasn't it stopping?_

On one of those Wednesday mornings, he kissed her forehead goodbye in lieu of her lips, and she suddenly felt cold, empty. "I love you," she whispered, slightly desperate, as she watched him walk away from her, his head down and shoulders slightly slumped.

Not even an hour later, a bouquet of hyacinths arrived at the door.

_Miss you._

_-L_

She slumped against the wall and stared at the flowers. This time, she wouldn't throw them away.

Xoxo.

Chuck knew that she was pushing him away. Whether it was consciously or unconsciously, he felt the distance growing between them. Everything was the same outwardly, but he knew that Blair was keeping something from him. Her smile was too tight, her skin too pale, and she was jumpy - her eyes flashing from wall to wall, as if she was prey waiting to be pounced on by its predator. The only time the distance between them seemed to no longer exist was at night, when all the lights had been extinguished and they laid next to each other, her head resting easily in the crook of his shoulder.

He had told her and himself that he wouldn't push, that she would tell him when she was ready. But it had been weeks, and Chuck would be lying to himself if he told himself it wasn't getting harder to be around her, to live with her. He loved her – but he didn't like that she was lying to him. He didn't like the lack of trust on her part. _Just tell me what's going on, Blair! _He wanted to scream at her. _Just fucking trust me!_

Chuck felt like all he did was worry about Blair, every minute of every day. He would wake from an uneasy sleep - if he had gotten any sleep at all - to check that she was still breathing. At work, in board meetings, he wondered if she was all right. When he ate lunch, he hoped silently that she would eat without his insistence today. At night, he watched as she fell asleep comfortably on his shoulder, the way they always slept, and he would feel a bit better, relishing in the smell of her hair spread in waves across his chest, her easy breaths softly tickling his neck. A day spent worrying made for a restless sleep for Chuck, who stayed constantly in the between state of asleep and awake at night.

He didn't know if Blair was even aware of the distance growing between them, so that morning when he left for work, he kissed her on the cheek instead on the lips, hoping she would realize that there was something changing between them, something that only she had the power to stop. Chuck hadn't stopped to see the look on her face, because he knew it would be too hard to see –he had already felt extremely guilty. He felt even more guilt when Nate had called him that afternoon, wondering if Chuck would maybe have a drink with him after work? Chuck agreed, partially because he hadn't seen his best friend in weeks, but also because he needed Blair to feel the same crevasse in their relationship that he felt.

Making his way to the bar at The Oak Room, he found Nate already waiting for him, nursing the scotch in front of him slowly. Chuck took the seat beside him and immediately signaled the bartender. "Nathaniel," he greeted his best friend.

"Hey, man!" Nate turned to him with a lazy smile. "Glad you came. I was beginning to wonder if Blair had you on lockdown."

Chuck forced himself to chuckle. "No, Nathaniel. Things have just been a bit hectic."

"Tell me about it. School's been kicking my ass lately, and Grandfather is _really _breathing down my neck about law school," Nate replied with a grimace.

"Law school, huh?"

Nate sighed. "Yeah, man. You know how the Vanderbilt side of the family is. All about politics. I mean, could you see me being a governor? Or a member of Congress?"

"If I'm completely honest with you, Nathaniel, absolutely not. I probably wouldn't even vote for you," Chuck replied with a smirk.

"Chuck, you don't even vote," Nate replied.

"I'd make an exception, then."

Nate chuckled. "So, what's going on with Blair. And _you _and Blair. Serena told me she moved in with you. I feel kind of in the dark over here, man."

"Sorry, Nathaniel. It was kind of a split-second decision on my part. Blair is…I honestly don't know how Blair is," Chuck responded, shocked at himself as the words left his mouth.

Nate furrowed his brow and took a long swig of his scotch, before setting it back down on the bar and sliding it forward, indicating the bartender that he needed a refill. "What do you mean you don't know how Blair is?"

Chuck shook his head and took a gulp of his own drink. "Everything was fine. I thought…I thought we were finally getting to the place we needed to be…" Chuck paused. "She's hiding something from me, Nate."

"I know it's bad when you call me Nate," he replied quietly, taking the fresh drink the bartender had just poured for him in his hands. "Do you know what?"

"Not the slightest idea," Chuck replied sullenly.

"Your PI?"

"Not a chance, Nathaniel. I'm not Bart," he spat. "She's got this crazed look in her eyes all the time, like she's waiting for someone to jump out at her from the shadows. She says she fine, but we both know she's lying. I'm basically forcing her to eat. I'm at a loss, Nathaniel. It's gotten hard." The words poured out him before he could even think about what he was saying. He just knew he had to tell _someone. _

"Wow, Chuck," Nate replied, his eyes wide as he stared at his best friend.

"What?" Chuck seethed back.

"Nothing. I just…I've never heard such a long sentence from you before You have _feelings._"

"If you're not going to be helpful you don't have to mock me, Nathaniel," Chuck muttered.

"Nah, man. I'm just…surprised. Impressed, I guess," Nate replied.

They sat in silence for a long time, both drinking heavily in the dark bar.

"I don't think I can lose her again," Chuck said softly, finally breaking their silence. "And I feel like I am right now."

"So _tell_ her, man. This is what you guys do every time! You dance around your issues and you tell other people, but never each other."

Chuck took a long drink of scotch and felt it rush to his head. He was definitely drunk. "You're actually right for once, Nathaniel. I have to go," he said throwing a wad of bills onto the bar.

He said he wouldn't push – but maybe he had to.

The limo ride was dizzying – clearly, he had drank too much, too quickly while he had been with Nate. The bright lights of the lobby of The Empire were almost blinding, as he felt himself stagger onto the elevator and down the hall, finally reaching his suite, where he struggled with the keycard.

He was unable to insert the keycard correctly before the door swung open, revealing a stricken Blair. "Where have you been, Chuck?" she asked quietly. "I was worried."

"Went out after work," he mumbled.

"Well, you could've told me!"

"And you could tell me what the fuck you're hiding, Blair," he seethed.

_Oh, no. This was not how it was supposed to go._

Blair wrapped her arms around herself, as if she was protecting herself. "Were you with someone?" she asked quietly.

He stepped closer to her and put his hands on her upper arms, holding her steady. "I was with Nathaniel, Blair."

"You're drunk."

"Yes, because I was getting drunk with Nathaniel. Why don't you trust me?" he asked. His voice sounded weak, pitiful, and he hated himself for it.

"I do trust you," she replied softly.

"No, no! You _don't_ trust me. You're lying to me about something. You're hiding something. You think I'm out sleeping with other women. Jesus, Blair. You don't trust me. Just say it!" he cried.

"I do trust you!" she repeated, her eyes welling with tears as she spoke.

"Then talk to me, Waldorf," he pleaded. "Because I don't think I lose you again."

Blair saw the desperate look in his eye and relenting. "Ok, we'll talk." Taking his hand and twining his fingers with her own, she led him to the couch. "Sit," she commanded, "I'm going to get you a glass of water. It's been a long time since I've seen you actually stumble, Bass."

Chuck obeyed her and seated himself on the couch, leaning back into the pillows and closing his eyes. The world was spinning slightly behind his eyelids. She was right – he was _drunk. _"Fuck," he murmured to himself.

"Here, Bass," Blair said, walking back into the room and pushing a chilled glass of water into his hands, which he downed in one, prolonged gulp. After a moment of pause, Blair cleared her throat. "Every Wednesday for the past six weeks, _he's _been sending me flowers," she said quietly, quickly.

"What?" he asked slowly.

"Every Wednesday after you leave for work, I get flowers."

"From who? What do you – Oh…" he trailed off as he realized what she was saying. "What the fuck, Blair? How could you keep that from me?" he exclaimed, rising from his seat on the couch, suddenly feeling stone-cold sober.

"I didn't want you to worry." She bit her lip and looked up to him, realizing just how poor of an excuse she was giving him.

"All I do is worry about you, Waldorf," he replied softly.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," she murmured. "I—I should have told you. I just—"

Chuck began to pace in front of her. "Is that all? Just the flowers? Or has he contacted you?"

"Just the flowers, Chuck."

He pinched his brow between his thumb and forefinger. "Goddammit," he muttered, to no one in particular.

"Chuck?" Blair whispered.

Releasing a deep sigh, he walked back over to her and knelt in front of her. "Look at me," he said softly.

Her eyes met his after a moment. "I'm sorry, Chuck," she murmured.

"Stop. Don't. I don't want you to apologize, I don't want you to be sorry. Just don't hide things like _this _from me. I can't protect you if I don't know what's going on," he replied.

"And here I was thinking you were having my every move followed by your PI," she said, choking out a laugh.

Chuck shook his head. "_You _told me that I wasn't my father. That's something _he _would do. Not me. I'm not going to have you followed without your knowledge, Blair," he replied seriously.

"Oh, but you'd have me followed as long as I _know _about it?" she responded acidly.

"Goddammit, Blair. If I feared for your safety, absolutely. Stop trying to pick a fight with me," he growled.

"I'm sorry," she murmured once more.

"Stop," he repeated. "I don't know what his game is yet, but I intend to find out. But you have to know that _this _is what he wants. He doesn't want you to tell me, he wants you on your own. He wants us apart."

Blair froze. "I hadn't thought about it like that," she murmured.

"You know I'm right, Waldorf," he replied, with a weak smirk. "Even he knows we're unstoppable together."

"Chuck?" she asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"What are we? Are you even my _boyfriend_?"

"I'm whatever you want me to be, Waldorf. If you want me to be your boyfriend, then yes," he replied with a small smile.

"That is what I want," she replied softly.

"Then I'm your boyfriend. But that does come with stipulations," he replied, unable to keep the smile from his face.

"Like what?" Her voice was quiet, and she bit her lip in anticipation.

"I don't expect you to tell me everything. But if it scares you, if it gives you a fucking _panic attack_, Blair, you tell me, goddammit," he replied darkly.

"Stop cursing so much, Chuck."

He tucked a curl behind her ear with a small smile. "I'll do my best for you, Waldorf. And if it involves Louis in anyway, you tell me. End of story."

"Love me?" she asked apprehensively.

"More than anything," he replied easily, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Much to his surprise, she deepened the kiss, her tongue running across his bottom lip, looking for entry. His mouth opened, and her tongue was teasing his. Soft, gentle, with a taste that was indescribably Blair – mint, macarons, and rosé, maybe?

She kissed him harder and he felt his resolve weaken. "Stop," he murmured against her lips, "before I can't."

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked quietly.

"No. I want _you_," he groaned.

"Then I don't want to stop."

He pulled away from her in surprise. "Blair? Are you ready for that?"

"As I'll ever be," she said quietly.

"I love you," he murmured, kissing her the pulse point at her neck, making her shudder.

"I love you, too," she breathed as he swirled his tongue across her neck.

"You sure?" he asked quietly.

She pulled away and smiled at him, taking his hand and pulling him up from the floor, and leading him into their bedroom, where she slipped the top layer of his suit off as she continued to kiss him.

"Your hands are shaking," he pointed out.

"Chuck, just shut up and kiss me," she demanded.

Kissing her again, he knew he was past the point of no return, fumbling with the zipper at the back of her dress, dragging the pad of his thumb down her spine as he pulled the zipper down, causing her to shiver. When her dress dropped down to the floor and she was left only in a flimsy black slip, he stepped back to look at her. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," her murmured, once again seeking her lips.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her, slowly leading him towards their bed. Reaching it she sat, never breaking their mouths apart, forcing him to lean down. He obliged and forced her to lay back, his body hovering over hers.

"You still ok, baby?" he murmured, pressing a trail of soft kisses down her neck.

"Yes," she breathed. As Chuck continued touching her, caressing her, planting soft kisses any and everywhere, she wondered why she had been so nervous for their reunion in the first place. Where Louis' touch had been harsh, greedy, Chuck's touch was gentle, altruistic. Where Louis had ravished her every time they had coupled, Chuck always knew what she needed, and right now he was worshipping her. Louis had always been selfish, mostly leaving her unsatisfied. But as she felt the tugging in her lower belly, and she saw the stars bursting in her eyes as her limbs shook erratically, she realized there had been reason to ever be afraid of being with Chuck. A final groan, and Chuck collapsed on top of her.

After a moment, he exhaled and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was snuggled up against his chest. Their sweaty bodies laid like that as they felt their breathing return to normal. Chuck kissed Blair's forehead, enjoying the slightly salty taste of the sweat beaded there. "Are you ok?" he asked, once he finally had his wits about him once more.

Blair snuggled into his body further, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I'm ok, Chuck, I promise," she murmured sleepily.

Chuck draped his arm against her naked waist, reveling in the feeling of the soft flesh of her body beneath his fingers once more. He smiled as he lazily rubbed meaningless patterns in her waist, until he heard her breathing becoming deep and even. He shifted gently to look down at her, and sure enough she was asleep – her eyes squeezed tightly, a tiny fist rested against his chest, and a small smile across her face. "I love you, Waldorf," he said quietly, before closing his own eyes and allowing a dreamless, restless sleep find him at long last.

**Review? Please? (:**


	15. Panic

**Chapter 15 –Panic**

Blair's 6:30 alarm woke Chuck up from the most incredible dream. Her beneath him, her nails digging into his back, her legs wrapped tightly around him, their mouths fused together and murmuring 'I love you' with every gasp of air that they took. A beautiful dream. As he became conscious to his surroundings, he felt the dried, crystallized sweat on his skin, and his own nakedness. He felt sated and calm, and then he realized he hadn't been dreaming.

Smiling, he rolled to face her, to wrap his arms around her. "Turn the alarm off, Waldorf," he murmured, before realized she wasn't next to him. He was immediately awake, up on his elbows.

Blair chuckled from across the room. "I'm right here, Bass," she said, perched on the windowsill in Chuck's shirt from last night, coffee cup in hand. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, tendrils falling down the nape of her nape and along her face. Blair was the only one who really knew the real Chuck Bass – she was the one who had seen his soul long before he knew he himself had even known it had existed. As such, Chuck also got to see parts of Blair no one else knew existed – Blair, free of makeup, her hair thrown up haphazardly. The imperfect, improper Blair. They only ever allowed their facades down with each other.

"Turn the alarm off and come back to bed, Blair," he mumbled.

"It's snowing, Chuck," she whispered back excitedly.

Chuck smiled to himself. Like many New Yorkers, he was simply resigned to the frigid cold of New York winters. Blair, however, thrived on them. Her face lit up every time she saw a flake of snow, almost girlishly. And if her face was any indication, there was more than just flake of snow outside their window right now. "A lot?" he asked, grinning.

"Come look!" she exclaimed.

He obliged, stretching lazily as he left the warmth of the bed, and stood beside where she sat on the windowsill. Without a thought, he dropped a kiss to her forehead before surveying the New York City streets before him. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of white, and it was still coming down. Only Blair Waldorf would be excited over a blizzard. "Was it even supposed to snow?" he asked, confused. Chuck checked the weather religiously every day – even the smallest amount of moisture could destroy a quarter of his shoe collection – and he did not remember seeing snow on the forecast at all.

"I don't think so," she replied with a small laugh, finally turning to him. "Morning, Bass." She smiled at him as she met his gaze.

Chuck shivered, feeling the cold emanating from the slightly frosted windows. "Aren't you cold, Waldorf?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her before she had a chance to respond.

Blair leaned back into him and closed her eyes. "No. You know how I am about snow."

Chuck pressed a soft kiss to her neck. "Mmm, yes, I do. But _I'm_ cold, and it's very early. Come back to bed, Baby. Just for a little bit," he murmured into her neck.

"Fine," she murmured with a small grin.

Chuck smiled in triumph, and crawled back into bed, lifting the covers for Blair as she slipped in next to him. He pulled her in close and gently pressed his lips to hers. "Hey," he murmured.

"Hi," she replied somewhat shyly. His body involuntarily shivered against hers, his teeth chattering slightly, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around him to help warm him. "You're freezing," she noted.

"It _is_ freezing, Waldorf. Just because you can't feel it…" he trailed off, teeth still chattering. "And how the hell is it even snowing?"

"It's been a rough few months," Blair replied soberly, burying her face in his bare chest. "Maybe I'm finally being rewarded?"

"With a blizzard? To hell with the rest of us, huh?" Chuck laughed.

"Oh, please," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "A blizzard means you can stay in bed all day."

"With you?" he asked hopefully.

"Nope. I plan on going to play in the snow," she replied with a smirk.

"Alone?" Chuck asked, slightly perturbed. After Blair's encounter with Estee, and now the flowers, he definitely did not want her roaming the streets of New York alone, blizzard or no.

"I was going to ask you to come, Bass, but all you've done is complain about how cold it is," she answered, a challenge sparkling in her eye.

"Obviously, I'm coming with you," he grumbled. "Just let me sleep a little bit longer?"

"Fine, Bass. You have until 8:30. After that, I'm pushing your stubborn ass out of this bed."

Chuck closed his eyes and pressed another kiss against her forehead. Allowing his lips to linger, he murmured against her forehead. "You love my stubborn ass. And make it 9:00, Waldorf."

Blair didn't respond, and merely rolled her eyes. Her annoyed façade faltered, however, as Chuck's expression softened and his breathing evened out. Yes, she did indeed love his stubborn ass.

Satisfied that Chuck had indeed fallen back asleep, Blair rolled onto her side so she could face the window and watch the snow continue to fall. She had been obsessed with snow for as long as she could remember, marveling in the simple beauty of a landscape draped in fluffy, pure, pristine snow and the way it sparkled in the sunlight. In her fairytale, the one that she had written for herself in her head, there was always snow, always pure white - the way it was before it became tarnished by vehicles, humans, and animals. She loved watching as the snowflakes fell, every single one different than the last, never to be repeated again. Snow reminded her of happier times – skating in Central Park with her father before he moved to Paris with Roman, snowball fights with Serena and Nate, Chuck standing on the sidelines because just one well-aimed snowball would _ruin _his silk J. Press scarf. Nothing had ever come without determination or sacrifice for Blair, but there had been times when she had allowed herself to enjoy the simple pleasures that existed in life – in a time before Louis Grimaldi. As she watched the snow fall outside their bedroom window, Blair allowed herself to feel a small sliver of joy in something so simple, if even just for a moment.

Blair smiled softly to herself. Yes, snow could still bring her joy. She wasn't damaged beyond repair.

Chuck brought her happiness, but until that morning when she had opened her eyes and seen the onslaught of snow, she had been concerned that he was the only one who could. Without him, she felt alone, lost. Without him, she didn't feel happy. But then there was snow, and she felt happy, if just for a second. But when the snow melted, she wondered, could she still find some happiness that didn't solely depend on Chuck? She exhaled deeply, afraid to discover that her answer might, in fact, be 'no.' Chuck shifted next to her, and she realized she had woken him up.

"You ok?" he murmured sleepily.

_I love you. I love you. But I don't love myself. Not anymore._

"Yes," she replied, turning towards him. "Ready to wake up now, Bass?"

He pressed his face against her back and groaned. "Not really. But since you're so hot and bothered…"

"Will you be more amenable if I bring you a cup of coffee?" she asked hopefully.

"So domestic of you, Waldorf. And yes, I would be," he replied.

"If I get you a cup of coffee, you have to get up, get dressed, and play in the snow with me. Understood?"

"Someone's bossy this morning."

"Well, you did agree to be my boyfriend last night, in case you'd forgotten. That _does _mean I get to boss you around once in a while," she snapped.

"I haven't forgotten, Blair," he replied softly. "Believe me, I haven't forgotten. I was just teasing. Drag me through this blizzard in my crocodile Testoni's, see if I care."

_Apologize!_

"I'll get you a cup of coffee, ok?" she said instead, rising from the bed without looking at him.

Chuck sat up, grabbing her hand before she could walk away. "Hey," he said quietly.

Reluctantly, she turned to face him, immediately noting the question on his face: _Have I done something? _"No," she said quietly, shaking her head. "Black? Or do you want half-and-half and two sugars?"

She saw him study her, to see if she was lying. "Black," he said after a moment. Blair squeezed his hand before pulling away from him.

"Blair—"

"Coffee, then snow," she interrupted.

"Coffee, then snow," Chuck agreed, apprehensively.

She was being cagey and she knew it. He knew it, too. He knew her too well. She returned to the bedroom with the requested coffee in hand. To her surprise, Chuck was already out of bed and a pair of boxers were slung lowly below his hips as he stood in front of the dresser, rummaging through one of the drawers, clearly searching for something to wear. "Your coffee, as ordered," Blair said softly, setting the coffee on the dresser. Chuck shot her a soft smile, and immediately Blair felt a twinge of regret at how she had snapped at him for no discernable reason. Determined to rectify her earlier reaction, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him close, and planted a firm kiss on his lips. When she pulled away, Chuck was smiling at her. A real smile. Chuck Bass rarely smiled – no, he smirked instead. "Drink your coffee before it gets cold." She smiled back.

"I'm trying to decide what to wear. I think you're about to destroy anything luxury I own," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"You are correct. No J. Press. No suit. Just wear one of your _many_ Columbia sweatshirts," she teased. "Chuck Bass, you are going to _try _to have fun."

A cup of black coffee and several stolen kisses later, they were both dressed to explore Blair's blizzard. Chuck in a pair of designer jeans and a Columbia sweatshirt, topped with a tweed peacoat and leather gloves, and Blair almost matching, in a stolen, oversized Columbia sweatshirt and jeans. "You're going to freeze, Waldorf," Chuck said, raising a brow.

"I'll be fine, Bass," she shot back. "I have you to keep me warm, anyways." She returned his raised eyebrow with one of her own.

They rode the elevator down from Chuck's penthouse to the lobby, Blair walking ahead of Chuck in the luxurious, yet empty lobby of the Empire Hotel. "Mr. Bass—" The concierge noticed his employer heading towards the door.

"Believe me, Hector. I am quite aware of the conditions outside. I am going against my will," he stated, motioning to Blair who was walking determinedly ahead of him.

"Bass," Blair said impatiently, stopping just before the door and tapping her rain boots against impatiently against the marble floor.

"I'm right here, Waldorf," he said with a grin. She took his hand and dragged him forward, the doorman shrugging nonchalantly as he opened the door for the couple. The icy cold hit Chuck immediately, and he grimaced at the feel of the wind and snow flurries hitting him squarely in the face. _Fuck the cold. _Blair, however, was spinning in the snow, arms outstretched, a bright smile etched across her face. Chuck smiled to himself. As long as she continued to smile like that, he would gladly brave any amount of cold for her. He'd gladly move to Antarctica if she wanted him to.

Before he knew what was happening, she was bent over, her delicate hands forming a snowball. "Watch out, Bass!" she yelled, before chucking a snowball at him, hitting him squarely in the chest.

"You've just made a grave mistake, Waldorf," he said coldly, quickly forming his own snowball and launching it at her, smacking her directly in the face.

"Chuck!" she cried.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he murmured, rushing over to her. "Are you ok?"

Her perturbed expression instantly changed into a grin and she pushed him down into the snow. "Got you," she replied with a smirk.

"You're going to pay for that, Waldorf," he growled, pushing her up.

Blair smiled. "You'll have to catch me first, Bass!" she shouted, throwing another snowball at him, this time she aimed for his face.

He spat the melting snow from his mouth and wiped the moisture from his eyes, and rose up to run after her. She was halfway down the sidewalk before she turned to look at him, her eyes challenging. "You want a war, Waldorf? Well, you have a war," he murmured to himself, before dragging himself to a standing position and walking towards where she stood, seemingly frozen. Her curls blew in the wind, dotted with snowflakes. Coming up from behind, he grabbed her waist. "You want to battle, Waldorf?" he whispered into her ear.

Blair didn't move or even acknowledge his presence. She stood rooted to the spot where she stood, staring straight ahead.

"Blair?" he asked quietly, disconcerted with her sudden silence.

"I saw him," she replied quietly, her voice deadpan.

"Saw who?" His blood ran cold.

"Louis." Her voice was small, painful, as if saying the name was torturous.

"Where?" he asked quietly. Blair was already unnerved, and the last thing he wanted was to distress her further.

"Just around the corner. He was walking towards Starbucks." Her voice was cold, robotic. Detached completely.

"Stay right here, ok?"

Blair nodded, and Chuck walked away from her, trudging through the thick snow towards Starbucks. Entering, he shook the moisture out of his hair and looked around. No Louis Grimaldi to be found. Sighing, he ordered an Americano for himself and a hot chocolate for her. Waiting for the drinks, he continued to look around. There was no Louis. Chuck exhaled a sigh of relief.

Blair stood in exactly the same spot as he left her in. "Well?"

"It wasn't him, Blair. I brought you a hot chocolate."

Blair took the hot chocolate from him, absently. "It was him, Chuck. I know it was," she replied, her voice shaking.

Chuck studied her for a moment, noting that all the color had drained from her face, her fingers shaking as she held the hot chocolate. He threw an arm over her shoulders, and he could feel her whole body trembling considerably – and he knew it had nothing to do with the cold. "Hey, Waldorf," he said softly, pulling her in closer to him. "It's ok."

Blair nodded quickly, too emphatically. "Yes," she agreed absently. "All ok." She smiled up at him blankly and began to walk once more, staggering slightly, her body swaying. She clung to him as they walked, clearly determined to continue her façade of normalcy. As they passed by the Starbucks in question, Blair paused her movements. She knew what she had seen – a flash of blond hair, perfectly quaffed and parted, the blue eyes that feigned innocence, but on closer inspection were full of malice and arrogance. Louis had been here, she could feel it in her bones. Looking through the window of the coffee shop, her eyes immediately darted to a shock of blond hair and nothing else. But it was _him!_ She felt her heart beat begin to race and she instinctively tightened her hold on Chuck.

"Hey, Waldorf," he spoke, crashing through her thoughts. "You sure you're alright?"

"Can we go home, Chuck?" she said quietly. Her voice sounded weak to her own ears, pathetic.

"Ok, Blair. Come on," he replied, gently turning her around, her arms wrapped around his waist like a vice.

Chuck led her back to The Empire slowly, her pace slowing every few steps, and as she began to stumble more forcefully, he stopped her completely. "I'm ok," she whispered, her eyes shut tight.

_No. You aren't._

"Waldorf, look at me," he urged. She obliged, her brown eyes large and panicked, confirming what he already knew. "Come on, wrap your arms around my neck." Blair closed her eyes once more, but did as he bade her and encircled her thin arms around his neck. Leaning down slightly, Chuck hooked one arm around her knees and one around her back, hoisting her small frame into his chest.

Blair buried her face into the crook of his neck and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Hush," he murmured back as the doors of The Empire were held open for him. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Mr. Bass? Is everything-" came the voice of the concierge, Hector.

"Everything is fine, Hector. Thank you," Chuck interrupted, gritting his teeth.

He pressed the button for the elevator and was grateful for the _ding _of the door as it opened, and he stepped inside, still holding Blair who was clutching him as if her life depended on it. "Still with me, Waldorf?" he asked quietly, cutting through the silence of the small, mirrored room.

He felt her nod weakly against his shoulder.

"Good," he continued. "We're almost home."

The elevator let out another _ding _as they reached his penthouse, and Chuck removed his arm from around Blair's back to dig out his keycard. She clung tightly, as if he was letting her go. "I have you, Blair. Don't worry. I just needed to get the key," he said softly. Finally jamming the keycard through the slot in the elevator, the door opened to reveal their penthouse. Immediately, he made his way to the bedroom, where he gently laid her down and attempted to remove the sweatshirt she was wearing.

"No," she said quietly. "I want to keep it on. Smells like you."

Chuck dropped down on his knees next to the bed. Reaching out he gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Ok. Sweatshirt stays on. What do you need from me, Waldorf?" he asked softly.

"Just stay with me." Her voice came out as almost a whimper.

"I wasn't going to go anywhere even if you wanted me to," he said with a small smile. "Do you still have a prescription for Xanax?" It was obvious to Chuck that she was having her classic pre-panic attack symptoms, and he wanted to stave off as many symptoms as he could.

"No," she murmured. "Might be a few in my bag, though. Kept a few in case."

Chuck kissed her quickly on the forehead before rising. "I'll be back."

Chuck made his way across the room where her bag was sitting on his – _their – _dresser. Removing his gloves, he rummaged through the bag before his hand finally wrapped around a pill bottle. Relief flooded through him – the Xanax could give her even the slightest amount of relief. Pulling it from the bag, his relief instantly turned to panic as he realized it was not in fact her once-prescribed Xanax, but instead that damned bottle of Vicodin that almost killed her. His hands were shaking as he set the bottle down on the dresser.

_She couldn't._

_She wouldn't._

_She_ wasn't.

He hadn't seen her eyes glassy and huge, he hadn't heard her slur her words. He had seen none of the tell-tale signs that she was taking those damned pills again – but still, he was filled with dread. _Not right now_, he told himself reaching back into her bag and finding another bottle of pills. This time the correct bottle, an old prescription written out to Blair Waldorf for Xanax. Chuck popped the top and shook one pill into his hand, before drawing her a glass of water from the master bath. He sat down next to her on the bed and handed her the pill. "Found one," he said quietly. Blair popped the pill into her mouth and Chuck handed her the glass of water to wash it down.

"Thank you," she murmured, closing her eyes and pulling the comforter around her small frame like a cocoon.

"How bad?" he asked.

"Not the worst," she replied after a moment, her voice still shaking. "Would've been worse if you hadn't been there."

Chuck nodded before standing and walking to the other side of the bed, removing his peacoat and sweatshirt, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor before unbuttoning his jeans and letting them drop to the floor as well. He lifted the comforter and slid in next to her, wrapping his body around hers, her back pressed against his chest. "I'm here," he murmured. "Always."

Blair awoke hours later, unsure of what day or time it was. She remembered the snow, Chuck, Louis. She remembered her legs feeling like jello, the bitter pill on her tongue. Then there was darkness. Was it still the same day? She rolled over to face the sky, and she was greeted with the scenery of the setting sun. So, it was the same day. She swallowed, her throat dry and scratchy, and she grabbed the water she noticed on the nightstand, gulping it down swiftly. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stumbling a bit on her weak legs. Noticing the doors of the bedroom were open, she made her way towards them, and exiting she found Chuck sitting on the couch, typing away furiously on his laptop.

She couldn't help but smile at the image: Chuck wearing only a pair silk boxers and a Columbia t-shirt – _Of course! – _his hair rumpled from his fingers constantly passing through it, and his eyes laser-focused on the images in front of him. Without a sound, she made her way to the couch and sat next to him with a smile, not wanting to interrupt.

Surprised, Chuck looked away from his laptop. He shot her a small smile. "Hey, you're awake. How do you feel?"

"I feel…weird. I don't know what day or what time it is. My legs feel like jello. What happened?" she asked, wiping the remaining sleep from her eyes.

Chuck exhaled and closed the laptop, placing it on the coffee table. "Come here," he murmured, gesturing for Blair to come closer. She obliged, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "It's Thursday. I don't know what time it is. Maybe 4:30? You almost had a panic attack earlier today."

"Louis," she said quietly, nodding.

Chuck sighed. "Blair, I know—"

"It was him, Chuck," she insisted, seething. "I know it was."

"I went and looked for him, Blair. It wasn't him."

"Well you missed him then! Because it was him!" she cried, pulling away from him.

Chuck leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "Maybe I did, Blair," he relented. "I just…"

"You just what!?" she cried.

"I hate seeing you like that," he admitted quietly. "I know sometimes you just have panic attacks. I know that. But you just losing it because of _him. _I want you to be able to walk past this block without you having a panic attack."

"Well, I'm sorry," she whispered.

Chuck shook his head. "Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for. You've had these for as long as I can remember – even before I found you that time in the bathroom. Yes, I've always known," he confirmed, seeing the questioning look on her face. "But this is different, Blair. We both know it."

"What do you mean?" Her eyes fell, seemingly to watch her own fingers twiddle in her lap.

"You aren't _just _having panic attacks anymore. There's a reason now," he replied quietly.

"And what do you want me to do about it?" she asked, with a slight edge in her voice.

"Honestly?"

"Yes, honestly," she replied.

"I want you to talk to someone."

"I'm talking to _you_ right now."

"Blair," he murmured. "I want you to talk to a therapist."

Blair froze. "I haven't made myself…in a while, Chuck. I swear," she said quietly.

"I know that," he replied gently. "I know that, Blair. That's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what?" she pleaded.

"You used to have a panic attack maybe two, three times a year, Blair. That's happened in a few months. Baby, you almost died," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I almost…I want you to be happy. You aren't happy."

"I am, too, happy!"

Chuck shook his head. "You're not happy. You're happy with me, I see that. But I need you to be happy beyond just me."

"So?"

"So, I want you to talk to someone. Dr. Sherman. Someone different. Anyone."

"I hate therapy, Chuck," she whispered.

"I know. It's terrible. But it does help – It helped me."

"You were in therapy?" she whispered.

"I started right after you started dating Louis." He flinched as he spoke.

"Why?"

"Because I had to let you go. But I also needed to move on…as much as I could."

"Chuck…"

"I went to therapy to let you go, Blair. I did the best that I could. The best I could do was love you from a distance."

"I wish you hadn't tried to let me go. Then I wouldn't feel this way," she murmured.

"Blair—"

"I'm not blaming you, despite how that sounded. I…Do you love me, Chuck?" she asked quietly

"You know I do."

She nodded solemnly. "I'll call Dr. Sherman tomorrow."

"I will carry you through a blizzard while you're on the verge of a panic attack everyday if you need me to. But I want _my _Blair back – the one who made girls cry because they wore leggings as pants," he said with a smile.

"And what if I'm not that Blair anymore?" she asked quietly, fearful of the answer.

"I think you're still _that _Blair. But if you're not, I'll still love you," he replied with a shrug.

"Will you?" she choked.

"Blair, I've been in love with you since I was thirteen years old. Nothing has changed that."

"Thirteen?"

"Yes, thirteen."

"You're lying," she accused.

"No, I'm not. I didn't know what love was then. But, I know now that I was," he replied with a shrug.

"How?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nathaniel never bought a single one of your gifts. It was always me," he murmured.

"Not one?" she questioned.

Chuck paused. "The ruby ring. That was the first one I picked out. After that…they were all me."

"I adored the ruby ring. I still do," she said, twirling said ring around her finger. "I thought Nate was so observant and thoughtful. I loved red that year, and gold. He didn't know that at all, did he?"

"If I remember correctly, he was going to get you an iTunes gift card."

"But you knew, Chuck?" she whispered.

"I saw it and I knew you'd love it, that's all," he said with an unceremonious shrug, as if it was insignificant.

Blair smiled up at him. "I've been wearing this ring for years, Chuck. Why didn't you tell me you picked it out before now?" she inquired.

"You probably would've flushed it down the toilet a few years ago if I had told you before now," he replied.

Blair couldn't help but chuckle. "You're probably right, Bass."

Chuck sighed and pressed his nose into her hair, relishing in the smell of her shampoo - rose and sage. He inhaled deeply before pressing a kiss into her dark curls, still slightly mussed from sleep. "I need to ask you something," he started hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"When I was looking for your Xanax earlier, I found that bottle of Vicodin, too," Chuck finished.

"C-Chuck—" she stuttered

"Tell me. Have you been taking them again?" he asked quietly.

Tears began to well in her eyes and she made an attempt to push them back. "No, Chuck. I haven't. I promise. I didn't even realize I still had them," she pleaded.

She felt him nod against the top of her head. "Ok," he replied softly.

"Ok?" she questioned.

"I believe you. I just…I had to ask. And I flushed them, so they're gone."

"Good," she replied quietly. "I'm sorry, Chuck, about everything."

"I'm not. You're here now." He pressed another kiss into her dark tresses and closed his eyes.

_She's here now and that's all that matters._

Xoxo.

Hours later, Chuck once again found himself staring out the window at the New York City skyline, covered in the powdery white substance that Blair adored so much. The blizzard itself had stopped, but small flakes continued to dot the night sky in front of him. In his hands, predictably, was a crystal tumbler filled with scotch. Blair had gone back to sleep hours ago, clearly still exhausted from her earlier episode. Chuck, however, was once again unable to find his own sleep, his mind running rampant with a jumble of thoughts – Blair, Louis, those damned pills.

Blair had been adamant that she had seen Louis earlier that day, and Chuck was currently questioning the veracity of her conviction. Even though Chuck had looked for the weasel himself, she had been _engaged _to the man. Wouldn't she know her own fiancée from across the street?

Of course, he reasoned as he took a healthy sip of scotch, she _could _have been overreacting, right? Her moods had been erratic and unpredictable since she called him that night of the gala – the night he found out the true nature of her Prince Charming. There were thousands of blond men in New York visiting Starbucks. What were the odds one of them was the detestable Louis Grimaldi?

_Except it wouldn't have been a coincidence at all_.

The man had gone out of his way to subtly torture Blair, he knew. Estee, the flowers. Chuck gritted his teeth before taking another sip of the smoldering amber liquid. No, it was entirely possible she had seen Louis, after all. Chuck pulled his phone from the pocket of his robe, knowing what he had to do. Pressing 'call,' Chuck held the phone to his ear. Within seconds Andrew Tyler answered. "Mr. Bass," he greeted smoothly.

"Tyler, are you still watching Louis Grimaldi?"

"I've had my eyes on him, Mr. Bass," the other man reassured.

"And?" Chuck asked, impatient.

"He's still on the Lower East Side, with that woman."

"Any possibility he made his way anywhere near The Empire today?" Chuck asked.

"No way. I've got one of my guys tailing him, reporting his every move to me. He didn't even leave her apartment today, I'm told."

"Tyler," Chuck bit out. "I am paying you an obscene amount of money simply to follow this weasel around. And you're telling me you've delegated the task to someone else?"

"Mr. Bass –"

"Here's what's going to happen, Tyler. You are _personally _going to keep up with Louis Grimaldi or you are fired – from this endeavor and any I may have in the future. Am I clear?" Chuck seethed.

There was a short pause before Tyler agreed. "Understood, Mr. Bass."

"Wonderful," Chuck replied before hanging up on the man.

So, there was a chance Louis _had _been there today. It wasn't extremely likely, but Chuck didn't trust anyone but Andrew Tyler when it came to a private investigator. Someone else simply wouldn't do.

_So, it's a possibility._

"Fuck," he murmured to himself, pressing his forehead against the cool glass.

A soft knock came from the front door and Chuck forced himself from his musings to answer it. Unlocking the door, he was surprised to find no one on the other side. Chuck rolled his eyes in annoyance and went to close the door when his gaze dropped to the floor. Sitting right in front of the door was a small vase, filled with purple pansies. Chuck felt his heart drop into his stomach as he leaned forward, searching for a card.

_Thinking of you on this snowy day, my dear._

_Snow was always your favorite._

_-L_

Chuck could feel his heart rate increase rapidly, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to slam the vase and flowers against the wall at full-force. Instead, he closed the door behind him and picked the arrangement up, walking to the end of the hall where he knew the trash chute was located. Opening the chute, he tossed the entire arrangement into the darkness. As he heard it hit the bottom with the unmistakable shatter of glass, Chuck almost felt like he could breathe again.

Finding the flowers had been strenuous for him. And he wasn't even the one who had been hurt, abused, tortured. So, what did Blair feel when _she _found them? Every day, for weeks. Realizing he hadn't moved a muscle in a few moments, Chuck suddenly couldn't bear to be away from her for another second. He rushed down the hall and back to their door, slamming it behind him and locking it swiftly.

He wanted to see her right then, right _now, _but he knew his breathing was ragged, and he could feel himself trembling slightly, and the last thing he wanted to do was worry her. She had enough to deal with as it was.

_You _hav_e to calm down. _

Chuck found his abandoned glass of scotch and resumed his position in front of the window. He took a large gulp and pressed this forehead against glass, hoping the frostiness would calm the boiling of his blood.

He felt the petite arms wrap around his abdomen and he instantly relaxed into her. "Chuck?" she whispered. "You're tense," she continued when he didn't respond.

Chuck took another sip of scotch before placing the glass on the windowsill. "I just have a lot on my mind," he replied, crossing his arms over hers, his fingers searching for hers.

"I know."

He felt the shadow of a kiss through the fabric covering his shoulder blade. Slowly, he turned to face her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. Sorry for what? He was unsure. The flowers in general? For lying to her right now? For not believing her about Louis earlier?

Blair shot him a soft smile. "Shhh," she said, loosening the belt of his robe. "Come, Chuck, let's go to bed."

Chuck nodded slowly, his senses slightly dulled from rage and alcohol. But she was clear, she was here, and he'd follow her anywhere. "I love you," his voice was hoarse, ragged.

"I love you, too," she murmured, pushing his silk robe to the floor. "Now, come, show me."

**Review? Make me happy? (:**


	16. Swing

**Chapter 16 – Swing**

**A/N – I have no excuse for how late this is other than I've been very easy to distract lately. So forgive me for the lateness as well as any typos. I didn't want to wait any longer, so I forewent the proofreading. As always, reviews are appreciated (:**

"So, Blair, how has your week been so far?"

Blair absently twirled a hazel curl between her fingers before shrugging. "It's been fine, I guess," she replied, her focus on searching for split ends, rather than the man in the leather armchair in front of her.

"Just fine?"

Blair let out a huff before making eye contact with her new therapist. Dr. Ellis – a man Blair had already deemed completely impossible, and certainly unqualified. This was her fourth session with the therapist Dr. Sherman had recommended, and Blair was ready to call it quits with all of his inane questions. "Why do you always ask me that? Aren't you supposed be shrinking me? Relating all of my underlying issues to my mother?" she retorted.

Dr. Ellis shrugged casually. "I'm just curious about how your week has been, Blair. And as for your mother; I suppose you'd have to tell me about her before I can blame all your problems on her," he replied with a small smirk.

Blair couldn't help but smirk in return. "This week has been…all right, I guess," she relented. "Chuck's been busy with work…Serena's been busy with her boyfriend. I'm still ignoring all of my mother's calls...so yeah, just _fine_." She shrugged.

"How has your anxiety been? Any panic attacks?" Dr. Ellis questioned.

"The anxiety hasn't been too bad. It's still there, but nothing I can't handle," she replied, picking a piece of invisible lint from her skirt. "No panic attacks since the night I agreed to try therapy." Dr. Ellis' eyes never left Blair's face, making her feel slightly uneasy. Silence filled the room and Blair began to fidget, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

_Silence._

Suddenly Dr. Ellis' shoes seemed very interesting, and Blair studied them thoroughly. Older, but good quality. Definitely leather. Artisan. Coach, she concluded, eventually.

_Silence._

The horrible painting on the wall – Was it of Venice, perhaps? Perhaps. The angles were wrong. The shadows weren't in the right places.

_Hotel art. _

But Blair was enraptured. It was better than the expectant silence.

Dr. Ellis appeared completely at ease, his eyes trained on Blair, the corners of his lips lifting in a slight smile.

"Aren't you going to ask me another insipid question?" she eventually blurted, simply hoping for an end to the infernal silence.

_Fuck, you're not supposed to give in first!_

Dr. Ellis chuckled. "I wasn't planning on it. But I do have one question, Blair. Why are you really here?"

Blair's eyes snapped up from studying her skirt to look at the aging therapist. "What?"

"Why are you really here, Blair?" he repeated, unblinkingly, as if he was waiting for a reaction.

As if he could already _see._

"I told you why the first day I came. My boyfriend wanted me to come because of my panic attacks," she replied quietly. She knew her voice wavered as she spoke, and she mentally chastised herself.

"Oh, I'm sure that's certainly part of it. But I can tell you're hiding the real reason," he countered immediately.

"Am not!" Blair shot back, eyes narrowed.

Dr. Ellis leaned back in his chair, removing his glasses and setting his aging leather notebook aside. "Let me tell you something, Blair. I have been at this for a long time. A _very _long time. I have a degree in Psychology from Harvard, and a Master's and Ph.D. in Clinical Counseling from Columbia. I am no fool. And from what I've seen, neither are you. You've been coming to me for a month now, and I know nothing about you that you didn't tell me during our first intake session. So, care to tell me why you're really here? Or are we going to tiptoe around it for another few months?"

Blair felt herself flush. "I'll have your license revoked," she replied darkly. "You can't talk to me like that."

Dr. Ellis' face remained impassive. "I'm here to help you, Blair. I can't do that if you don't tell me what you need help with." He shrugged, almost as if he couldn't care less.

Blair swallowed the lump that had grown in her throat before she responded. "I'm here for my boyfriend. He wanted me to try it," she replied coldly.

"Why?"

"My ex-fiancée hit me, ok?" she exclaimed, before she even realized the words were leaving her lips. She could feel the blush twinging at her cheeks. She closed her eyes to save herself from her embarrassment, and the pity that was surely on Dr. Ellis' face at the moment. Her slender fingers touched her lips of their own accord, as if to warn them against blurting out anymore of her secrets.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Blair. It sounds like you were in a really tough situation."

Dr. Ellis' voice was warm and comforting, and Blair opened her eyes to look at him. "It was a fucking terrible situation," she seethed. "I'd probably be dead if it wasn't for Chuck."

"Your current boyfriend?" Dr. Ellis asked.

"He saved me," she replied quietly, nodding.

"He saved you?" Dr. Ellis questioned.

"I almost died. Chuck called 911," she replied quietly. "I really don't want to talk about this anymore."

Dr. Ellis nodded. "We're almost out of time for today anyway. But I appreciate you finally telling me the truth, Blair. I'd like to pick back up here next week."

"Sure. Fine," Blair mumbled, grabbing her bag and standing up from the plush leather sofa. She had to get out of here _NOW._

Dr. Ellis smiled at her warmly, rising to open his door for her. "I'll see you next week, Blair," he said kindly.

Blair didn't respond, having found Chuck waiting for her in the small waiting room, absently flipping through the latest issue of GQ, which she knew he had already read. She abruptly grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. "Let's go, Bass," she growled.

Chuck narrowed his eyes in confusion, but dutifully followed her out the door of Dr. Ellis' office and onto the sidewalk. "Bad, huh?" he asked as she pulled him forward.

"Just be quiet, Bass," she seethed, stomping towards the limo. She felt uneasy in her heels. Why the choice to wear heels for therapy? She had no idea.

Chuck raised an eyebrow as he opened the car door for her, beckoning her inside. He slid in after her, but she was already on the other side of the long leather seat, her head leaning against the glass of the tinted window, her breath frosting creating a network of frost against the glass. "Blair?" he asked gently.

"I have a headache, ok?" she said quietly, really not wanting to discuss the conversation she had just had with Dr. Ellis.

No.

In fact, she wanted to forget about it completely.

"Ok," Chuck replied softly, taking her hand from where it rested in her lap and placing it in his own. "I'm here if you want to talk. Or if you don't."

"I know, Chuck," she replied wearily.

Blair Waldorf had always considered herself a force of nature, a power not to be reckoned with. During her time at Constance, there had once been a time when she was sure she was absolutely, positively, indisputably pregnant. Of course, she had lied to herself for as long as possible before Serena felt the need to insert herself into the situation – as she _always _did. But before then, Blair was perfectly content to live in her own denial. If she could tell herself it was absolutely, positively, indisputably _not_ true – then it wasn't. _Obviously_.

And then Serena had calamitously gotten involved in Blair's private affairs – _the nerve_ – and forced Blair's hand: Denial or truth. Of course, being pregnant, Blair wouldn't have been able to hang onto her denial for much longer, and Serena had forced her hand to face the truth.

The inevitable.

In the back of the limo, with her head pressed against the cool glass and her slender fingers twined with Chuck's, she could remember every detail of that day.

It was Chuck's. Of that much, she had been certain.

She hadn't slept with Nate at Cotillion – she couldn't. She had hated Chuck that night, of course. But when it came down to the absolute, raw truth, she loved him. Perhaps, she was even _in _love with him, even then.

She remembered the feeling of opening the box. This was would be it, the end. She was already in the grave, and the test would effectively bury her. It would bury her social empire completely. Herself. Her family – her mother, specifically. _Chuck._

And Chuck would hate her.

Blair Waldorf had peed on a stick, clad in designer sleepwear which she had hiked up above her hips, and she had never felt less refined. What was even the point? She was pregnant with Chuck Bass' baby and she knew it.

As she had set the test on her counter and set the timer on her phone, she stared at herself in the mirror. _What the fuck have you come to, Blair?_

"I'm not pregnant. I command myself _not _to be pregnant," she said to her reflection in the mirror. It was ridiculous and she knew it. Blair Waldorf was powerful, but she was _not _a force of nature.

She remembered the sound of her timer going off. A horribly annoying melody, devoid of any real instruments, any real music, any real life. _Is this real life? _She had wondered.

_No, it's not._

Honestly, what even was the point of looking at the test? She knew that she was absolutely, positively, indisputably pregnant.

When she allowed her eyes to flutter to the test, she thought she was facing her own denial. She even chuckled.

_Not pregnant._

Yeah, right.

She had Dorota bring her a slew of tests, all of which were negative. Eventually she saw a doctor, and the same was said.

_I'm not pregnant. I command myself not to be pregnant._

And so, Blair Waldorf decided she _was_, in fact, a force of nature.

Blair Waldorf was not to be fucked with. Teachers feared her, her minions hung on her every word. She was _queen._

She sighed, the cloud on the glass growing larger. _Queen. _She chuckled against the glass. She didn't even make it to princess. Blair Waldorf had always considered herself a force of nature. So why did talking about Louis feel like it could break her, shatter her? Why did she feel so weak? When did she _become _weak?

"Waldorf?" Chuck's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Chuck's fingers were wiping her tears away before she even realized they were falling. "I don't want to be queen anymore, Chuck," she whispered.

"Blair—"

"No, I know. It's made up." _I made it up. "_And it _sucks."_

"You're my queen," he offered.

"I am, aren't I?" she replied with a grin, pushing away the errant on his forehead.

"Tell me," he murmured, squeezing her hand.

"He's actually going to make me talk about it," she grumbled.

Chuck blinked. Once. Then twice, clearly in disbelief. "What the fuck did you think therapy was, Waldorf?"

Blair shrugged. "Dr. Sherman and I never really talked. She prescribed me medication and made me promise to not throw up my food. There was a whole contract involved, honestly –"

"Blair," he interrupted. "Dr. Sherman was a quack. We both know it. Please try." His face was drawn, pale, slightly drained.

"Yes," she agreed. "She was…is. Chuck –"

"Don't," he murmured.

"You know it was you, don't you? "

"Me, what?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"You're why I stopped…. Stopped. You know, the thing."

Chuck blinked, clearly surprised. "Me?" he asked.

Blair nodded in affirmation. "Yes."

"Why?" he questioned, eyes narrowed, his fingers tightening over hers.

Blair shrugged. "Apparently, I'll do whatever you want if you look sad enough." A look of hurt flashed over Chuck's features momentarily, and she sighed, softening, looking him pointedly in the eye. "You were the only one who asked," she offered. "Do you remember what you said to me when you found out?"

Chuck nodded. "You know I never forget anything, Waldorf," he replied grimly. Another squeeze of her fingers, then the pads of his fingers brushing gently across her knuckles.

It had been a completely ordinary day for Chuck Bass. Well, most days were ordinary for Chuck Bass. Or, at least, they _had _been. The days just passed, a haze of pot, booze, and random women he never took the time to get to know. Women were just like the days of the week – Boring. Always the same. Inevitable. Occasionally, torturous.

Well, they _had_ been.

He had just stepped out to finish off the blunt he and Nate had started smoking before school, as English literature was especially torturous that day. Romeo and Juliet, _honestly_?

Romeo couldn't have waited _five seconds_ before he killed himself, _really_? Honestly, it was just poor writing, in Chuck's opinion. He figured that if he was high, maybe he could maybe find some humor in the star-crossed lovers' inevitable demise – because, really, it was all just ridiculous.

The corridor had been empty as he stepped back inside, his hands numb from the cold. He took a look around, momentarily confused, before he realized that in his drugged haze, he had stepped into the wrong side of Constance/St. Jude's.

_Man, this stuff is strong. I'll have to call Jessie, get some more._

He laughed to himself, amused at his error and obviously stoned when he heard the sound. A muffled sob, a gasp, and then the sound of someone retching. Chuck rolled his eyes.

_Fucking bulimics. _

They were a dime-a-dozen at Constance, honestly. It was a cliché at this point to be a bulimic, and if there was one thing Chuck hated, it was a cliché. Well, that, and suit that had been incorrectly pressed.

They all wanted to be beautiful, the girls at Constance. It wasn't enough to be ostentatiously wealthy – no, not nearly enough, never – they had to be impossibly, painfully thin. Had to be perfect. Had to be better, always, _always_, better, no matter the means. The end would always justify the means. Everything always had to be perfect on the Upper East Side. Well, at least, it had to _appear _that way.

_Always perfect. _Chuck grimaced. A curl of dark brown hair, a pair of rich hazel eyes flashed through his mind. He shook his head. _Must be the pot. _

Chuck hadn't even realized he was still in the hallway, completely unmoved and lost in his own thoughts, until the door to the bathroom swung open, starling him._ A curl of dark brown hair, a pair of rich hazel eyes. _"Waldorf?" he asked as a strange feeling shot through his whole body. He wasn't sure what to call the feeling, honestly, as Chuck Bass didn't do feelings.

Years later, Chuck realized that nameless feeling that had shot through him that day was, in fact, _fear. _

"Bass?" she replied, clearly taken by surprise. "What are you doing in the girls' hallway? Trolling for victims?"

"Actually –" he paused, eyes narrowed. "Are you ok?"

Blair blinked, taken aback by the question. "What do you care, Bass? And yes, I'm fine," she replied, tossing a curl over her shoulder.

"Are you sick?" he asked.

Blair visibly flinched. "No," she denied, her voice dropping an octave. What are you talking about, Bass? Oh, I see. You're high. Of course."

Chuck took a step closer to her, noticing that she had been shaken by his questioning. "Waldorf—"

"Don't," she interrupted. "Just don't. I'm _fine_, Bass."

"I heard you, in there."

"I said I was _fine_," she asserted, gritting her teeth.

"No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "No, Waldorf. Come on, really?"

Blair blushed and looked away from him. "Stop, Chuck," she pleaded.

He reached a hand out, placing it on her narrow shoulder. "Will _you _stop?" he had asked, pleadingly.

"You asked me if I would stop. You were the only one. Everyone else just _told _me to stop," she stated, shaking Chuck out of the memory. "Even then, I guess I'd do whatever you asked of me." She shrugged.

"I'm asking you to try this," he replied, softly, pulling her into his arms. "Just _try."_

Blair nodded slowly. "I'll try, because you're asking me to. I just…I didn't realize it would be like this."

"Like what?"

"I didn't realize it would be…this hard. It's easier to pretend, isn't it?" she asked, scrunching her nose up distastefully.

"Hmm, yes," Chuck responded thoughtfully "Short term, yes, I suppose it is."

"Long term?" she asked softly.

Chuck settled his arms around her waist, stroking her side with the pad of his fingertips thoughtfully. "Things either change or they stay the same," he finally offered. "You just have to decide what you want." He shrugged. "Are you happy the way things are?"

Blair paused, pressing her face against the hollow of Chuck's throat. "I suppose not entirely," she offered. "But I'm happy with you."

"And I want more than that for you. You know that. I've told you that."

Blair nodded against his shoulder, relaxing into him. "Will you stay with me when it gets too hard?" she asked tentatively.

"Why, Waldorf. You know I'd stick by through anything," he replied, the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a smile – a _real_ smile, she noted.

_Anything_.

Xoxo.

Andrew Tyler was bored. He had worked for the Bass family – if the word _family _was even an appropriate term – for many years, and he was officially on his most boring assignment, he was sure of that. Louis Grimaldi, while a prince, was mostly a monotonous subject. He was _still _shackled up with his brunette assistant - what was her name? Estee? Yes, Estee - on the Lower East Side. Frankly, Andrew was convinced that his following of the Prince of Monaco was entirely, but who was he to question the reasoning of the employer paying him a vulgar amount of money to simply watch the man as he ran out for a bit of takeout?

No, he was certainly not in the position to ask questions.

He did, however, wonder why Bass cared so much about Grimaldi's whereabouts. Having worked exclusively with the elder Bass for as many years as he had before the intimidating businessman's tragic passing, Andrew knew his tasks always had an element of business to them. That had been Bart Bass – ever focused on his business and making more money. Money and control had been true hallmark of Bart Bass.

Chuck, however, was a stark contrast to the employer Andrew had been used to. Chuck Bass had become a fearsome businessman in his own right, he knew. He had good instincts and understood how business was done, but he lacked the calculating coldness that Bart had used to build Bass Industries from absolutely nothing. In a word, Chuck Bass was soft. Andrew knew that his following of Louis Grimaldi had absolutely nothing to do with Bass Industries and everything to do with Blair Waldorf.

Chuck was _absolutely_ soft.

And Andrew Tyler was bored. It had been three hours since he had laid eyes on the Prince, who had left in the morning to grab breakfast from a bakery down the street. Hardly newsworthy. Letting out an exasperated sigh of boredom, Andrew leaned back against the wall in the alley where he was hiding himself. Today was going to be another boring day.

And then, _finally_, there was Louis Grimaldi, headed towards the street, his arm out in front of him, hailing a cab.

"Finally, you bastard," Andrew muttered, making his own movement to his car, preparing to tail the Prince. It was an easy trail, Andrew noted with some disappointment. This could _not _be the most exciting part of his day. In twenty minutes, Louis' cab came to a halt, and Louis exited the cab gracefully, turning on a heel and turning towards his destination.

Andrew tracked him from across the street, and as he took in the building before him, a smirk slowly building on his face.

Now, _that was _interesting. Interesting enough to make a call, at least.

Andrew watched as the doorman opened the door for Louis and beckoned him to come inside. "Bass, I have something interesting for you," he spoke into the phone as soon as Chuck answered, his usual brusque greeting.

"Yeah, just watched your Prince Charming going into the Waldorfs' building."

Xoxo.

"So, how are things, B?" Serena asked, as she artfully stabbed a piece of lettuce with her fork. "It's been awhile since I last saw you."

Blair winced at the reminder of her and Serena's last attempted outing. Today, at Chuck's urging, Blair was having lunch with Serena at the blonde girl's apartment.

"You have to get out of this house, Waldorf," he had said, straightening his bow tie in the mirror.

She had scoffed. "Yeah, because that went so well the last time I tried. _Both _times I tried."

Chuck had turned around, passing a hand across his face, nodding. "Still. You can't be here 24/7. You'll go crazy, Waldorf."

So here she was, in Serena van der Woodsen's apartment, eating Caesar salad out of a Styrofoam container. Because Chuck had _asked _her to.

_Damn him._

"_Things _are fine, S," Blair responded coolly.

"You and Chuck?" Serena asked absently, crunching on a crouton.

"Out with it, Serena," Blair replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Have you guys…You know, yet?" Serena asked, her blue eyes gleaming conspiratorially.

"Seriously, S?" Another eye roll.

"Well, the last time I saw you, you were unsure! Forgive me for being curious!" Serena replied. "So I take that as a _no_, then?" Her voice softened.

"Since _when _have you wanted to hear about my sex life, S?" Blair asked, stabbing her own piece of lettuce, popping into her mouth delicately.

"Since you became a shut-in, apparently," Serena grumbled back.

Blair paused, swallowing her bite of food, before laying the fork down on the table and crossing her arms around herself. "You don't get it, S," she said quietly.

"You're right. I don't, Blair. What happened to you? I mean, I know what happened with Louis was bad, but you can't just cut yourself off from the world," Serena said heatedly.

"That's not what I'm doing, Serena!" Blair shouted back.

"Well, what are you doing? You're always with Chuck, I never see you, I _barely _hear from you. So, what? You're just with Chuck now and that's all your life is? Because that is pretty sad, B," Serena said mockingly, leaning back in her chair, her own arms crossed.

Blair blinked. Swallowed sharply. In a second she was out of her chair. "I wouldn't have come here if I had known I was going to be attacked, thank you very much for lunch, Serena, but I must be going," Blair said quietly.

"B, wait—" Serena started, her voice slightly softer.

"No," Blair interrupted, her hand raised between them. "You've said quite enough for today, Serena.

Blair grabbed her coat and handbag from where Serena had artlessly thrown them over the back of her couch, and swiftly stepped out of Serena's apartment with a solid _click _of the door. Alone in the hallway, Blair felt herself deflate.

_The nerve._

Blair slammed her hand against button of the elevator in pure anger._ The absolute _nerve _of Serena van der Woodsen!_

While Serena wasn't entirely incorrect about Blair's sudden housebound status, she was absolutely incorrect about Blair's reasoning – well, mostly incorrect. She didn't know about Estee, the flowers, seeing Louis, the panic attacks. In fact, Serena hadn't even tried to understand her reasons, as was typical of any line of Serena's thinking: Do now, think later, then make excuses and avoid all responsibility, look stunning while doing it.

Blair rode the elevator in silence. She felt defeated, alone, misunderstood. The only person who understood was Chuck. He was the only one who had even tried. Why did _everything _have to be a fight? Blair fought for everything she had ever had, clawed viciously to get where she was, only for to all be snatched away in seconds. Serena van der Woodsen had never had to fight, of course. Everything was handed to her on a silver platter. Blair wanted – _needed _– to stop fighting. Something had to be easy, just _one thing. _

The door of the elevator swung open, and she wiped the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling slightly. She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her coat and typed out a text to Chuck: _Lunch didn't go well. Headed home. Am I pathetic?_

It took only a few moments for her to receive a response, which made her smile slightly: _You're amazing, Waldorf. You know that. _

_I'm just tired, I guess._

After another few moments: _Go home. Curl up in bed, I have something I have to take care of and then I'll be there. I love you, Waldorf._

_Love you, too, Bass._

Blair pocketed her phone, feeling slightly better that, at the very least, Chuck Bass loved and understood her.

Even if her best friend didn't.'

Xoxo.

Chuck Bass was seated in his limo, right leg propped up over the left as he typed out his replies to Blair's texts.

He was sure that _"Lunch didn't go well" _meant that lunch had, in fact, gone quite terribly.

_Dammit, Serena. You had _one _job. ONE. _

Chuck sighed, looking out the window of his limo and up at Blair's old apartment building. He had been stunned when Andrew Tyler had called him with the location, and frankly, Chuck was not entirely sure he believed the man. But if there was the slightest possibility that Chuck could intervene Louis' twisted plan – _whatever _it was – he'd have to take that chance.

Blair was coming apart at the seams, he knew. And this time, he couldn't wait until she had completely fallen apart to protect her. With this in mind, Chuck opened the door of the limo and made his way inside the all-too-familiar building, the doorman greeting him a polite "Welcome, Mr. Bass." Chuck nodded curtly and made his way to the elevators, the key card he had swiped from Blair years ago lodged so firmly in the palm of his hand that he was sure it would leave a permanent indentation.

The ride to the penthouse seemed to take longer than he remembered. Chuck was acutely aware of the sound of his own breathing, and the nervous trembling he felt in the pit of his stomach. _You are fucking successful businessman. A fucking _billionaire. _Why the _fuck _are you nervous right now?_

_You know why._

The elevator stopped and Chuck was momentarily unsteady on his feet. _Don't think, just do._ He regained his balance and inserted the keycard, sticky with the sweat on his hands, into the slot. The doors swung open and Chuck took in the view of the familiar foyer of the Waldorf penthouse, the sound of Eleanor's laughter.

A maid – not Dorota – scurried to greet him, clearly confused by the sudden visitor. "Sir?" she questioned.

"I'm here to see Eleanor," he stated lowly, barely looking her in the eye as he pushed past her.

"Sir!" she shouted after him.

Chuck ignored her, moving briskly into the formal dining room, where he found Eleanor and Louis chatting over a china tea set, set primly between them. "Just most beautiful French Chantilly lace, really, Louis—"

"Whatever _this _is—" Chuck motioned wildly between Louis and Eleanor, interrupting the latter – "Stops now," he demanded.

Eleanor's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Charles. What are you doing here? I simply don't remember inviting."

"I'm not here to play games, Eleanor," he growled, before turning to Louis. "Stop. The flowers, Estee, whatever else you have up your sleeve, STOP. You lost her, and that's on _you. _You had one fucking job, Louis – just love her. That's all you had to do. You fucked it up gloriously and now it's over. She's with me and you both need to get over it and move on."

Chuck turned to Eleanor: "I know he doesn't care that he's hurting her, I know that. But you're her _mother_, and he's hurting her. He's _torturing _her. And you're just having a chat with him over tea? It's disgusting. Your daughter is falling apart and you don't even care, Eleanor. I'm taking care of the best I can but you're her _mother. _Jesus Christ."

Back to Louis: "Your game is over, Louis. Whatever you think you're doing, it won't work. You won't break us up, you won't win her back. You lost. So just _move on _and leave her alone."

Chuck was breathing hard by the time he finished. He hadn't meant to say so much, but once he started it had been impossible to stop the passage of the words he felt so deeply in his bones on his lips. "That's all I have to say," he finished with a curt tilt of his head, spinning on his heel and passing the maid, all color drained from her face.

It was a blur how he got back to the limo, but as soon as he did, he slumped into the buttery leather of the seats, suddenly exhausted. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to be with her. "The Empire," he told Arthur, and he could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Upon arrival, Chuck dragged himself out of the limo and up to the penthouse, which was silent and apparently Blairless. Momentarily, he panicked, before remembering he had told her to curl up in bed. _God, that sounds heavenly._

The French doors were open and he quickly spotted her small frame, wearing the Columbia sweatshirt she had effectively stolen from him and buried under the covers. He allowed himself a small smile as he silently removed his shoes, his trousers and his dress shirt before sliding under the covers next to her, wrapping himself around her. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils, and he felt the tension knotted tightly into his shoulders dissipate.

She sighed and brought a hand back to gently touch his cheek, her fingers brushing across his jaw. "Do you take care of what you had to do, Bass?" she asked softly, not turning around.

"I hope so," he murmured, before he could even think better of it.

"What does that mean?" she asked, shifting slightly in his arms.

"What happened with Serena?" he replied, hoping to change the subject.

"I don't really want to talk about it right now," she said quietly.

"Neither do I," he mumbled back, pressing a kiss into her hair.

"I'm just tired," she started, sadly, he noted. "I'm so tired, Chuck." Her voice a near whisper.

"Then rest, Baby. I'm right here," he said, squeezing her gently.

"You're the only one who understands, Chuck," she continued, defeated.

"It'll get better, I promise." Blair didn't respond, but he felt her nod before she curled legs up underneath herself and wrapping her delicate fingers around his forearm which was thrown across her midsection. "Rest," he ordered lightly. He could see from the flutter of her eyelashes that she had indeed closed her eyes, and he allowed himself to do the same. Chuck knew there to be two truths about Blair Waldorf: Blair Waldorf was a force of nature. But also, Blair Waldorf was falling apart, and he'd do anything to keep her together.


	17. Not an update -- sorry

Sorry to disappoint the few that liked this story...

This is not an update, and there is unlikely to be an update, ever again.

My mental health has not been the greatest. And (of course), my laptop died a while back, so I've lost everything that was unpublished. And I don't want to rewrite it. Most importantly, I've lost interest in this fandom.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed this fanfic, and LIKED it. You guys are awesome and I can't thank you enough. But the story does end here.

I have found another home in Dramione (Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger), and I'm currently writing a fic for that fandom. So if you're into that fandom, and you like my writing - I'll see you there.

If not, well...thanks anyways. xoxo.


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